Just Breathe
by LostinOblivion
Summary: A negotiation gone horribly, horribly wrong. FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Standoff or Anna Nalick's music, these lyrics are from "Breathe (2 a.m.)"_

_This is another teaser for a full length story, if there's interest, I'll post more, you all know the drill.**

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**Barn: Thursday: 1/11/07: 1:35 a.m.**

Emily's team entered first from the back entrance, hoping to take out the crew of HTs before they shot any of the hostages. Their feet pounded as they moved, flowing like river, toward the entrance. Emily was in the front, kevelar vest snuggly fit, and an automatic weapon considerably bigger than she was used to, firm in her grip, strap slung over her shoulder.

It was rare that the CNU people actually went in after the HTs after they'd decided that talking hadn't worked. But today had been an odd day. That was the only way she could think to describe it, just odd. Now, leading a team of California state troopers, not the HRT her and Matt were used to, she was sure her heart would beat out of her chest. She could feel the desperate rhythm as started first in her chest, then migrated to her throat, and she could feel the pounding beat even in the tips of her toes and fingers.

Matt was at the entrance opposite to her, in the front of the barn, in a similar state to Emily. Matt's lack of patience prevented him from calling the day something as simple as odd. No, Matt thought of that day as an exercise in political ass-kissing. The LA Bureau had been getting negative reviews for leaving many of the farther suburban and rural areas to their own devices. So he and his partner, got to run to their rescue now that some of their home-grown psychos decided to take a few hostages.

Normally locals deal when it's this far from the city, and normally, they are perfectly content, and hell, even prefer it. Not those in near LA though, they feel left out when the Bureau doesn't pitch in. And Cheryl was getting pushed to not only send agents, but good agents to deal with the mess. He could still here her anger as she announced through gritted teeth that her two best agents were going to take a trip to the rural community, Sunset Grove, and talk down a few idiots with guns.

But it wasn't that simple. It wasn't that easy. And they sure as hell wished they had had Frank and HRT right then. Because Matt, for all his typical macho testosterone, man of steel, whatever you want to call it, was feeling the same way Emily was. He was sweating bullets. Sure they were trained for this, in Frank's simulations and paintball games, but this was real. They accompanied HRT a few times, but they sure as hell never led them. Now he waited for Emily's signal to enter, and prayed to God it went well.

"Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,  
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.  
No one can find the rewind button, boys,  
So cradle your head in your hands,  
And breathe... just breathe,  
Oh breathe, just breathe"

Emily looked behind her once more, making sure she had her dozen state troopers, and they had their guns ready to fire. Steeling herself she gave the signal, and two troopers broke down the door, and she led the charge as they all tore in. That is when it happen, so goddamned fast that she would be piecing everything together for years afterward.

Bullets just started flying. The state troopers barely had time to think before they flew to the ground, shot back or both. They didn't even know where the hostages were. Before she could even think they were all just shooting back. She would never forget the sounds of that day. The juicy thuds as bullets met flesh, the wails of pain, guns clattering to the ground, and crying, no sobbing in the distance.

Matt's signal was to count to ten after he heard the door in the back bust open. He got to six before he heard the first shot or shots, he would never be sure. What he would remember was the feeling of his blood suddenly running cold and his fingers instinctively tensing on the gun he held. He gave the order. Two of his troopers jogged up and turned the front door into splinters with a crash, and his team piled in.

The barn was dark and huge, and he tried to pick out Emily's team. There, the helmets, their there. The two seconds it took him to get there were long enough for the HTs to turn their weapons on Matt's team. The HTs slowly began backing into the far corner away from both teams, as they continued shooting. Matt's team kept up, pushing them further, screaming, begging them to surrender. Matt continued firing, leading his team, which seemed to have grown, that wasn't a dozen people by him, there were more. He realized then the teams mixed, and with a quick glance, also realized that a better part of Emily's team was down.

"There's a light at each end of this tunnel,  
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out  
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again  
If you only try turning around."

Emily watched Matt in a half daze. Both their teams were hit heavily, bodies lay sprawled on the ground. It was a slaughter. There was so much blood spray that everyone in that barn was covered in a thick coating of it; it looked like a scene out of a slasher film. There was so much blood it was unreal.

Matt was still shooting at the only remaining hostage taker, the other three HTs were sprawled on the floor, bleeding all over the place. Emily breathed in and squeezed her eyes tightly shut; the bullets in her made the process of inhaling and exhaling more painful than she could have imagined. She was starting to feel tired and weak, and her head was starting to feel muffled.

Nevertheless, she kept her eyes trained on Matt. She had to stay awake, and if anything could keep her eyes open, it was staring at Matt Flannery.

"Em? Emily!" He called to her as he came over, having finally got the last HT down. He was one of a dozen or so left standing.

"Em? Hey-" As he was coming toward her, his body beginning to tilt downward toward hers when the bullets ripped through him. Apparently the HT wasn't as down as he'd thought.

To Emily he fell in slow motion, his body contorting with the impact of each bullet, and slowly falling to the ground. At the same time she was loosing her own battle-her eyes began to close. She never saw Matt hit the ground.

"Oh breathe, just breathe,  
Oh breathe, just breathe."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Matt's Apartment: Wednesday: 1/10/07: 5:30 a.m.**_

"That is not the alarm Matt." She growled as they both attempted to roll over and ignore the offending device.

After two minutes of this Matt gave up. "Flannery."

"Don't sound snippy with me Matt, haul your asses out of bed. You aren't coming to the office this morning." It was an equal grumpy Cheryl.

"Oh, where did the inconsiderate prick decide to take hostages this time?"

"Sunset Grove."

"Where?"

"Sunset Grove, it's a little rural community about and hour and a half away by car."

"And why are we going?"

"To do your job Matt."

"Yeah, but why do they need Feds?"

"Because the Bureau political analysts say were ignoring them and they aren't happy about it, so we are sending them people."

"So why do Emily and I have to suffer. Why not send some rookies?"

"Because I was told that I had to send some of my best, and guess what Matt…that's you two."

"I should be flattered but I'm just pissed."

"What's going on Matt?" Emily rolled toward him, unable to ignore the noise in the background any longer.

"We have to go to Sunset Grove." He explained as he covered the phone mouthpiece.

"Huh?"

"Little rural area, people with guns."

"By Woodbridge?"

"Hey Cheryl," he said speaking to the mouthpiece again. "Is it by Woodbridge?"

"That's it. Emily knows it?"

"Yeah, sounds like it." They were well past the point of trying to be discrete with Cheryl. She knew, she didn't care, so they didn't care.

"Good. Get moving. HTs took 8 people hostage about 30 minutes ago." If Cheryl were to be completely honest with herself, their relationship made things easier; she only had to call one of them for they had a case.

"We won't get there for at least two hours after the fact then?"

"Then you better hurry. Sorry Matt."

"Right, bye."

"Bye, keep me posted."

"Always." Two clicks sounded and Matt rolled back over, thoroughly pissed.

"I had a friend in Woodbridge." Emily muttered.

"Yeah, you guys ever go to Sunset Happiness?"

"Grove, Matt. And yes."

"You remember anything about it?"

"Yeah." She paused. "It's a glorified ghetto with cows and abandoned farms."

"Great." Both just lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling wondering who they'd pissed off to receive this assignment as karma.

_**6:03 a.m.**_

Matt threw on a t-shirt, extremely thankful once again that unlike most other federal agents, they weren't forced to wear suits. Matt hating wearing suits, they were tight and hot, and gave him a constant feeling of unease. That is perhaps why negations were allowed to wear whatever they wanted; you want them very comfortable so they can concentrate.

He had just yanked his pants up, and was working on buttoning them, his belt in one hand, ready to be whisked through the loops, when he heard a startled, yet revolted cry from the kitchen. Suddenly much more concerned about Emily than his pants staying up, Matt tore toward his kitchen, his belt falling on the way, as his hand struggled to keep his unfastened pants up.

There was Emily, hair still wrapped in a towel, one hand covering her mouth, the other bracing her against the refrigerator, as she stared at something behind it. He approached her from behind, his panicked heart-rate just beginning to slow down as he realized that she was fine.

"Em? What's wrong?"

"I think it's dead." Was her muffled reply.

"What? What's dead?" Now he was confused.

"The mouse." She backed up into him, the hand that was on her mouth now pointing behind the refrigerator.

"Oh." Matt said as he finally got a look at what freaked her out. He'd set traps after Emily spent a night jumping at everything, after having seen a few mice over the past week. She'd sworn up and down that a mouse had tried to climb on the bed. So he bought traps, and apparently they were working.

"It's alright Emily, it's just a dead mouse." He rubbed her arms and then went to retrieved the creature and liberate it's body from the trap. As he picked up the trap it failed to give with the appropriate ease, so he yanked harder, pulling the trap, with the mouse, still stuck in it, off the ground.

"Oh god." He turned to see Emily, hand back over her mouth, looking like she might vomit, her color suddenly looking paler.

"I'm getting rid of it now, relax."

"It's not that Matt." She answered as she backed away to allow a wide girth between her and his hand, which still held both trap and mouse.

"Then what's making you look like you're going to puke?"

"You didn't get it all." It was so quiet, he barely heard her.

"What?"

"There is still some mouse on the floor." She told him and he could see her slowly swallow, and was concerned that she might actually throw up. He looked back toward where he'd pulled the mouse from. Sure enough there was a dark reddish circle where the tiny corpse had begun rotting on his linoleum.

"Oh, um…why don't you go dry your hair, and I'll clean that up?" He would have teased her if she'd hadn't looked so…sick.

She nodded and quickly hurried back toward his bedroom, while Matt disposed of the mouse and began wiping up the rest of it. Truth be told, it was making him a little ill too. Thank god they weren't homicide cops, they'd never make it through a crime scene.

"Emily, you okay?" he asked as he went back to his bedroom, mouse gone (all of it), and his hands thoroughly scrubbed clean of the dead rodent.

"Yeah." She offered without much commitment.

"You sure, you really looked sick back there?" He asked as he found her in the bathroom.

"Is that why you didn't tease me about it?" She asked as she turned to him.

"Yeah, pretty much." He said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'm alright. It was just so…ugh." She paused and leaned into him. "Poor mouse."

Matt couldn't help it, he started laughing as he hugged her to him. First she cursed the mice to hell, then she was rendered physically ill at the sight of their bloated little corpses, now she feels bad for them?

"What are you laughing at?" She asked as she pulled her head back to look at him.

"You do realize that you sound ridiculous right?"

"Hey! I'm allowed to feel bad for killing the mice, especially when pieces of it are still on my floor."

"You didn't kill the mice, I did." He told her, though in his mind he had caught her reference to the floor as hers, and wondered at it.

"I asked you to."

"I would have anyway- what the hell around we arguing about? That mouse is dead, and there are plenty more were he came from." _Hers?_

"Just because-" Matt chose not to let her talk, instead opting to cover her mouth with his own, stealing a kiss. Emily responded eagerly, forgetting the brush in her hand, letting it clatter to the floor, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, loosing one hand in his thick hair.

Matt wasted no time reciprocating her eagerness, as his hands began to roam, finding their way under her shirt. One brushed against the soft skin of her back, as the other one continued moving north along her stomach. _Hers?_ One of Emily's hands began to move toward his belt, which he had finally gotten on, when warning bells suddenly started shrieking in her head and she remembered they had a scene to get to-ASAP.

"Matt.." She began only to falter. "Matt, we have-" She tried another half-hearted attempt that his well-placed tongue thwarted.

"Okay, okay, Matt, we have work." She said forcing her body to calm as she detached herself from him, putting enough distance so that the magnets they seemed to posses didn't pull them back toward each other.

"Damn." He said breathing heavily. _Hers._

"Yeah." She agreed, her own breath ragged.

_**

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7:30 a.m.**_

Sure they had both had their coffee, but they were also dragged out of bed at 5:30 in the morning, and were…interrupted, leaving them both tired, wired, and cranky. And Matt's head was still mulling over Emily's words.

_Was it a slip or did had his apartment really become theirs? Did that thought really bother him? When had their relationship gotten this serious? How many nights had he actually been alone this month? When was the last time he'd been this focused on one woman? When was the last time he'd spent this much time with a woman and still wanted her this bad? _

"Are we lost?" Emily asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. She didn't recognize anything, though high school was a long time ago. Emily's mind was running circles around itself too.

_Damn had been exactly what she was thinking about that interruption. Was it wrong that one minute they were talking about a dead mouse and the next they were a second away from tearing each others clothes off? How many nights had she spent at his house this month? How is that she isn't tired of him, or him of her? Could they keep this up without affecting work?_

"I don't think so," he paused thinking. "Maybe," he paused again this time squinting out the windshield. "Yeah, I think so."

Alright time to focus on work, stop thinking about Emily. 

"Look over there, there's some people walking, we can ask them." Matt nodded, and going against all male inclinations to argue that he didn't need directions, pulled over.

_Ok, focus, talk to the man outside your window._

"Excuse me, sir?" Emily asked as she leaned out the open window. "We're a little lost, we're looking for Sunset Grove?"

"You aren't too far honey, just follow this road till you get to a red barn with a grain silo, then you want to turn left, and follow that road until you get to the old windmill, then you make another left, and you'll know your in Sunset as soon as you pass the big cow farm."

"Uh, thank you, thanks very much." Emily said awkwardly, as the old man waved and continued down the road.

"Did you catch that?" She asked Matt.

"Left at the barn with a silo, right at the old windmill?" He asked half amused, half in disbelief.

"Don't forget the big cow farm." Emily added, sarcasm lacing her words.

"Remind me to tell Cheryl she owes us."

"Oh I don't think either of us will forget this anytime soon."

Twenty minutes later they had turned left at the red barn with a silo, but there was no old windmill. They passed a farm with a ton of sheep, and farther down, a farm with barns so broken town it looked like a twister had been through. The roofs were literally caved in, random pieces of wood were scattered here and there, and it was obvious from the dark tone on the unpainted wood that everything was beginning to rot through.

"Christ, where are we now?" Matt asked with obvious annoyance.

"Easy Matt, we probably just made a wrong turn somewhere, or maybe we missed it." She said rubbing his arm to try and get him to relax, where were they?

They hadn't missed it though that much became obvious when they hit the road they had previously turned off of. Now seeing another person working the farm they had used as a marker, Matt pulled over, and both hopped out, desperate for directions.

"Uh Hi, excuse me!" Matt called. "Excuse me!" he called louder after not receiving a response.

"Hi there. You lost?"

"Very." Emily confirmed.

"What are you looking for?"

"Sunset Grove. We were told to turn left at the red barn with the silo, and we did, but that wasn't right."

"Oh…" The farmer said, seeming to understand something they didn't. "You don't want to turn at my barn, you want to turn at Jon Parker's, it's further down. You'll pass a blue-grey one before you see it. Do you know the way from there?"

"Yeah, we know the rest. Thank you." Matt answered though his tone showed obvious irritation.

Once back in the car, the duo sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to process the recent events.

"You want to turn at this barn," Matt mimicked. "Damn it, there has to be fifty farms here, who can figure out the right one. Seriously, who uses markers like this?"

"Here's the grey one, the one we need should be a bit further down."

"The next time Cheryl want us in farm country, she gets to come with."

"That'll be a sight, she'd go crazy before us."

"Red barn, silo right?"

"Yeah, this one, your right."

Another twenty minutes later.

"That is a whole lot of cows." Emily commented as her and Matt stared at the farm on their left, which was populated by what had to be two hundred cattle.

"Sure is." He stared alternately at the cows and the road, still in shock that there could be so many.

"I guess this means we found Sunset Grove."

"I don't know, this might not be big to Farmer Joe back there." He replied sarcastically.

"Let's pretend to be positive. If this is Sunset, then we should be at our barn in ten minutes. They said it was right on the outskirts."

Sure enough, in only seven minutes they pulled up outside a barn that was circled by state trooper and Woodbridge Police cruisers. Just in time for Emily's phone to ring.

"Lehman."

"Have you two gotten there yet?" Cheryl was clearly in a bad mood, though Emily couldn't tell how much of that was due to the current situtation.

"We just got out of the car, it took a while to find the site."

"It's past nine o'clock Emily, what took so long?"

"We got lost. When there's thirty barns they just don't make good landmarks." Emily tried her best not to sound pissed or sarcastic, but well, she was feeling both.

"Alright, alright. I can tell the drive went well. Your there now, just do what you do, and get those idiots to give up."

"Already working on a plan." Emily said with a smile, as she caught Matt gazing at the barn, sizing up their pathetic situation.

"Good. I'll check in later."

"Right. Bye." Both women hung up and Emily turned to Matt. "What are you thinking?"

Matt was silent for a minute. "That we got screwed with this assignment."

She nodded in assent, "Got anything more…productive?"

"They said we've got four armed HTs and eight hostages, two are children."

"Did they identify the HTs yet?"

"Course they did, everybody knows everybody right?"

"This is going to be a long day isn't it?"

Matt shrugged. "They're a bunch of rednecks, how hard could it be?"

* * *

Scraping the dead mouse off the floor is based on my own revolting experience, and the path to Sunset Grove is based on the hicktown that I was raised in. Another note, the story will be flip-flopping between present time and the earlier negotiation, so the next part will be set after everybody gets shot. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sacred Heart Hospital, Woodbridge: Thursday: 1/11/07: 6:24 a.m.**_

"I need to know what the hell went wrong in there, Cheryl!" Her boss yelled at her through the hospital payphone, tapped her feet anxiously, waiting for word on her team.

"I don't know sir, I just got down here." She had gotten the call two hours ago and was immediately choppered down. Matt had taken two bullets in his lung, as well as one in his right shoulder; he would be recuping for a while. The doctors had to get the bullets out, repair the damage and re-inflate his lung. Emily had a bullet in her lower torso, low enough to miss her right lung, but high enough to cause kidney and rib damage. The other bullet was in her stomach, which the doctors informed Cheryl was one of the most painful places to get shot.

"What do you mean you don't know, I've been hearing reports that a dozen people are dead! Is that true?"

"Not quite sir. Actually 15 have been confirmed dead. About a dozen others are in surgery as we speak."

"What?!"

"I came down here, they told me it was a slaughter. Six hostages dead, two in surgery, two HTs dead, two in surgery, seven of ours dead, eight in surgery."

"How the hell do 15 of our people end up with bullets in them Cheryl, what idiots did you send down there?"

"First, only two of those are FBI, the others are California State Police, second I sent my best agents down here, sir, and they may be dead this time tomorrow!" She had kept her cool, but when agents put their lives on the line you don't call them dumb, you call them heroic. And now they may die for that.

"Cheryl as soon as you actually know something besides death tolls, you call me, understand?"

"Yes sir." With a rude noise and a loud click, he hung up. Now she had to make the worst phone calls of her career.

"Mr. Lehman?"

"Yeah?" He sounded less than thrilled.

"I'm Cheryl Carrera, Special Agent in Charge-"

"What happened to Emily?!"

"The team had some difficulty, there was a shootout, Emily was shot twice." She choked it out, the negotiators hardly ever went in with HRT, this wasn't right.

"Is she alive?"

"Yes, she's in surgery now at Sacred Heart in Woodbridge."

"What hell were you all doing in Woodbridge? Wasn't she wearing a vest?"

"I sent her and her partner out to assist the state troopers in a situation in Sunset Grove, they don't even have a police department. And they were all wearing vests, but the bullets were arming piercing. "

"How bad is she?"

"I don't know very much, they've been with her in surgery a few hours now."

"Alright, we'll get the first flight down."

"I'll be here when you get here." He hung up, Cheryl wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile.

"Mr. Flannery?"

"Whatever your selling I don't want it."

"Sir, I'm Cheryl Carrera, Special Agent in Charge on the Crisis Negotiation Unit at the FBI."

"And?" Apparently he either forgot Matt's job or was slow putting two and two together.

"Matt's been injured."

"What? What happened?"

"There was a shootout between the FBI and four hostage takers, Matt was shot four times."

"Jesus, where is he? How is he?"

"Sacred Heart Hospital and I'm not sure, they have him in surgery, we won't know until they finish."

"Alright, I'll get a plane down. Thanks." He hung up, sounding very tired.

Cheryl sat down on one of the ugly plastic chairs and slid down the wall, placing her pounding head in her hands. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. But it was, that was all too obvious.

_**

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9:18 a.m.**_

Lia and Frank had arrived, both concerned after hearing about Matt and Emily, and figuring Cheryl would need a little support too. Until Matt and Emily were conscious, the blame would fall on her. Emily's parents had gotten there earlier, as had Matt's father, who waited awkwardly for word on his son. The nine state troopers who got away with scratches were still getting their statements taken, being given psych evaluations, or waiting for family to arrive to take them home. Cheryl sat with her head in her hands, Lia nervously watching her, and Frank was off checking on the status of the injured troopers.

"Cheryl Carrera?" A feminine voice asked her, as Cheryl lifted her head to see a tall brunette wearing a black skirt and blazer over a white shirt, and a taller black man who wore a dark blue suit and screamed cop.

"Yes?" She had talked to two dozen people in less than six hours she wasn't looking to talk to anyone else, not until they had a condition update.

"I'm Alex Carvanti and this is Mark Edwards, were from the Office of Professional Conduct. We're investigating the events at the Barn. We were hoping to speak with you." Rather than asking, Alex told her as gently as she could that the two were going to have a conversation.

"Sure, of course, I need coffee though, cafeteria?"

Alex nodded, "Your brave to drink hospital coffee."

"I'd drink piss right now if it had caffeine."

"I've been there," she paused, "How is your team?" Mark remained quietly at her side, observing the exchange.

"Nine of the troopers working with my team are dead. Nine are scared shitless and traumatized, and the remaining six are in surgery. One of my agents has been in surgery since he was brought in and the other one is in and out of surgery cause they just can't stop the bleeding."

"I'm sorry, I can't imagine what you're going through."

"I keep asking myself how the hell this happened. Matt and Emily are too of the best and most stubborn negotiators in the FBI, for it to go down like this…I…I just can't imagine what happened."

"That is what my team is trying to figure out. How much do you know about what happened?"

"Very little. All the negotiations are recorded, have you listened to that yet?"

"The state troopers are supposed to be getting it to us, but as you can imagine they aren't too concerned about cooperating with the FBI."

"Well that's the only way you're going to know what happened in there."

"Even so, I'd like to hear whatever you know." She told Cheryl, who nodded.

"Sunset Grove needed negotiators, so I sent Matt and Emily down and they were given 24 state troopers. I trust them both so I only called them to check in twice, and nothing gave me any indication that anything like this could happen."

"When was the second time you called them."

"12:45, I remember because it was right after I finished at a scene near Hollywood. Everything seemed fine. Matt was primary, so I talked to Emily. She said it was going well, Matt almost had the guy ready to give up. She said if they were lucky, they'd be home in two hours…I guess they weren't lucky."

"You're very close to them, aren't you?" Alex could tell there was more than a professional relationship between her and the two injured agents.

"Before I was promoted Matt was my partner, had been for years. I didn't know Emily until she was put under my command, but we became friends after she and Matt…"Cheryl cut herself off, she should not tell the OPC that.

"She and Matt what?" Alex pressed her to finish.

"Nothing. It isn't important." She chose to protect them, and herself.

"You need to tell me the truth Agent Carrera."

"I am."

"I don't think so."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Are they sleeping together?" Mark finally opened his mouth, and Cheryl was momentarily caught off guard, both by his sudden voice and his question. Her head shot toward him, and rather than deny anything, she immediately leapt to the defense of her friends.

"Whatever happened out there, they acted professionally, I know that. Their relationship had nothing to do with this disaster." She wanted to make that clear before they began jumping to false conclusions.

"I'm sure you're right, but if the FBI ends up taking the heat for this, you can bet that will be their excuse. And the state troopers and Sunset Grove will push it to the FBI before they take any blame." He told her honestly.

"Yeah, I know. They're going to be crucified." Cheryl suddenly felt very tired.

"I wouldn't worry too much yet, we still have a lot of investigating to do." He tried to reassure her, but knew it wouldn't help too much.

"Thanks…did you need anything else?"

"We'd like to talk to Emily and Matt, but I guess they are still unconscious?"

"Matt's been in surgery this whole time, they have three bullets, one near his spine, they don't want to damage it. Emily…they finished with her an hour and a half ago, but they just brought her back to the OR to stop the bleeding for the second time. They can't seem to stop it."

"Are their families here?" Alex asked, as both looked at Cheryl sympathetically.

"Emily's parents and sister are here, her brother is on the way. Matt's father is here…his mother is dead and he doesn't really talk to his brother."

"Is there anyone else that needs to be called?" Alex was trying to be sympathetic, they needed answers, and she was more likely to open up if she viewed them as friends.

"No, everyone else knows." Cheryl trailed off gazing at the floor, before picking up her head, the first trace of tears in her eyes, and speaking again, a sardonic tone to her words. "They could die. It was supposed to be easy, the type of annoying grunt work you give a rookie…and now…now they could both die…"

_**

* * *

Barn: Wednesday: 1/10/06: 9:30 a.m.**_

"Don't hang up! Don't hang up, we're just beginning to talk here, you gotta give me some time." Matt pleaded with the head of the HTs, one Roy Donovan.

"I don't hafta give you squat man, I got the guns, I got the people, I got the power. _You _call me when you can actually do something for me." Donovan said and Matt could here his sneer, just before he heard the click.

"Damn it! Do we have files on these guys? Any information? Anywhere?" Matt asked hopelessly of the troopers that sat on their cruisers watching the two Feds.

"Here, here you go." One over excited state trooper bubbled up to Matt, a handful of files in his hand, as eager to please and young looking as a schoolboy.

"Thanks Officer…Bently." Matt said reading his nametag.

"Your welcome sir, and you can call me Ben." He said holding out his hand.

"Ben Bently?" Matt asked eyeing Emily, who had been struggling to keep from bursting out laughing when the kid first walked up to Matt.

"Well Ben," He said. "If I call you Ben, you can't call me sir, call me Matt." Matt told the kid, grasping his still outstretched hand in a shake.

"Yes sir, uh Matt." Matt nodded and the kid scampered off. Then her turned to Emily, who finally burst, unable to resist the hopeless look Matt was wearing.

"Don't you laugh at me, I bet you before we're done here, Ben Bently will be clumsily flirting with you."

"Oh, and how do you know that?" Emily challenged him as she struggled to stop laughing.

"Because I'm not as pathetic as that kid, and _I _couldn't stop from flirting with you after one day." He told her as he approached her, both knowing very well that this was dangerous territory to step on while they were working.

"Well," She said suggestively, leaning into whisper in his ear, "Ben Bently is out of luck; I'm already taken." And with that she leaned back, and smiling turned back to their files, which Matt had splayed on the roof of the car.

He shook his head, hoping to clear it of, well, Emily. _This is going to be a very, very long day._

"Alright, we have four guys, too middle-aged, too younger, three married, all four have at least one kid…"

"Chart?" He asked, alluding to their method of charting characteristics for comparison.

"Sure, better than just staring at these for the next hour."

"Do you have any paper?"

"When are you going to learn to carry supplies with you?"

"Cheryl couldn't get me to do it, so don't think you'll be able to." He told her smirking.

"Well Cheryl didn't have all the…hm…tools that I have, so I'm pretty confident." Now it was her turn to smirk.

"That's not fair." He said, his look serious.

"Relax, I was teasing." She said still smiling, trying not to laugh.

He leaned in an whispered in her ear, "If we weren't working…" He let his sentence hang, knowing he didn't need to finish it.

Now it was Emily's turn to be flustered, turning away from him, she tried to at least make their flirting less obvious.

"Work." He said.

"Yep, uh chart?"

"Paper?"

"Got it." She said as she whipped a few pieces out of he bag.

"Okay, Roy Donovan, 41, married, three kids, ages 10, 7, and 3. Works at a plant in Queensboro." Matt read as Emily furiously scribbled.

"That's about twenty-five minutes from here." She told him, to which he nodded.

"Archie Fields, 38, married, two kids, 9 and 4, also works at the plant, which by the way is the Queensboro Plastics Plant."

"Like what, toys?"

"Uh…no, disposable plastic containers, for food I guess."

"Oh, who's next?"

"Tommy Baker, 26, three kids, 5, 3, and 4 months, and he works at the plant too."

"That's got to be our connection." She stopped writing and looked up at him.

"Looks like, because guy number four, Andy Ackerbee, also works there. He's 23 and has a one-year old girl."

"Okay, so we thinking something happened at the plant to piss them off?"

"Maybe…how big do you think that plant is?"

"I don't know, probably pretty big…why?"

"What are the odds that these guys all ran into each other working there?"

"They all live here though, maybe they car pool."

"I don't know, it feels like there's something more." He said concentrating on the chart.

"Daycare." Emily suddenly stated looking up from the files that Matt had handed her.

"What?"

"Donovan's wife is a hairdresser."

"So?"

"So, they probably put their kids in daycare, and each of these guys has a kid young enough for daycare."

"Doesn't mean that they all use it."

"Matt, these are blue-collar families, both of them probably have to work, so I bet you that they use the same daycare. They met picking up their kids."

"Alright, lets play your hunch." He said before turning and yelling, "Hey Bentley come here a minute!"

"Agent Flannery, what can I do for you?" Ben asked bounding up to the two agents.

"How are we doing on locating these guys wives?"

"Found two so far, they're over there." He said pointing.

"Let us know when the others get here." Matt told him.

"If course." Ben said nervously, before scurrying off.

"We need find out what's going on with these guys." Matt said, once again addressing Emily.

"You want to take one wife, I'll take the other?"

"No, I want you there to talk to both of them." She looked at him questioningly. "It's almost all guys out here with big guns aimed at their husbands; they are more likely to open up to another woman."

"Are you coming with me to talk to them?"

"No, I think I'll find out how trigger happy those state troopers are feeling. I've got a feeling its somewhere above Frank's average level." He said, to which Emily smirked.

"That's pretty hard to top."

"Yeah well, let's hope I'm wrong." He said, as she nodded, and both left to meet with their respective targets.

* * *

_I'm going to try to do a little of present time and a little of the negotiation in the next few chapters, so you get to see both. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Barn: Wednesday: 1/10/06:**_** 10:17 a.m.**

Talking to the HT's wives/girlfriends 

"Hi, I'm Emily," she told them, choosing to use only her first name as a way of establishing trust. "I'm a negotiator with the FBI. I understand two of the men in that barn are your husbands?" She asked the women.

The younger of the two women was wearing a cream-color, flutterly syle blouse, with huge purple flowers all over it, and a skirt that went just to her knees, that was the same shade as the flowers. Her finger nails were long, fake, and fuchsia, a shade that almost matched her lipstick, and her blond hair, which hung loose, was obviously a product of bleach.

The older of the two was wearing more conservative clothing, blue jeans and a light blue top, both of which seemed to be covered in white powder. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and covered in a black net, and she wore very little makeup. A baker, was Emily's first thought upon seeing her.

"I'm Christie Fields, can you tell us what's going on in there? Nobody will tell us anything. They just dragged us out here!" The older woman was clearly distressed, and Emily became concerned that they weren't told anything.

"I'm Andrea Baker. I got dragged out of work, and nobody will tell me why all these men have guns trained on that barn when our husbands are inside." She looked pissed more than distressed, and Emily wished she only had to talk to Christie Fields.

"Your husbands, along with two other men, took eight people hostage." Emily said simply, not knowing a more gentle way to explain it.

"What? Archie just wouldn't do that!" Christie exclaimed in horrified shock.

"Tommy would." Andrea simply said. Upon seeing the surprised looks from her companions she explained, "Tommy is an idiot, he is always screwing up. How else would I have ended up with three babies?" She said as if that explained everything. Emily didn't point out that that made her an idiot also, but she suddenly felt sudden sympathy for Tommy Baker.

"Do either of you have an ideas what might have set off Tommy and Archie?" Emily asked them gently.

"Tommy told me the factory was canceling child-care assistance. We'd hafta pay our kids tuition all on our own. He screwed up again." Andrea said bitterly, attributing fault to Tommy over something he couldn't control.

"What! Archie never said anything about that!" Christie Fields was getting very distressed, and making Emily very nervous.

"Do you use the same daycare for your children?"

"Tiny Tot Childcare." Andrea stated, while Christie nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

"Are either of you familiar with Jimmy Donovan or Lucy Ackerbee, ages three and one year?" Emily read off the names of the other HTs youngest children.

"I know there is a baby named Lucy at Tiny Tots, she's just the most beautiful child." Christie told her, eager to help, and still obviously upset.

"Tony, my three-year asked to have a Jimmy over once, but I don't recall the kid. Why?"

"The other two men in there with your husbands might have children at Tiny Tots."

"That's it?" Andrea was clearly not impressed with Emily.

"Could you both describe to me your financial situations?" Emily said, writing notes while she talked.

"Archie and me, we didn't make too much money, but we got by. We love our babies, but we just can't afford to have anymore. I'm working now too, so we can pay the bills…We try real hard it's just…it's just hard to live today." Christie told her, looking away, embarrassed that she was poor.

"We're dirt poor, Tommy can't do a damn thing right, so I had to get a job. Barely make enough to buy groceries and pay the electric bill though. Three kids can get very expensive." Andrea was suddenly uncomfortable with the topic, and spoke much softer.

"So losing that tuition assistance, that's going to be hard on you?" Emily coaxed them gently.

"His parents live up north near Sacramento and mine are dead, we don't have anything to do with our babies. If I quit my job, then we won't be able to afford our house." It would have come out as an anguished wail if Christie had spoken louder.

"Yeah, we're pretty much screwed too. I don't know what I'm gonna do with two kids who ain't in school. Damn it Tommy." She looked off distracted as she cursed her husband.

Emily smiled at the women, "Thank you for your help Christie, Andrea, we'll do our best to keep you posted, but right now, if you wouldn't mind, this officer," she motioned a trooper to come to her, "is going to escort you to that van across the street."

"What the hell are we supposed to do in there?" Andrea's question forced Emily to grit her teeth to keep smiling.

"Just hang out for now, we don't want you to close for safety reasons, and you'll be comfortable in the van while we keep you updated. Thank you again for your help." She said smiling as she sent them off, and then went to find Matt.

"Matt!" She called to him where he was studying something with a bored looking trooper.

"Hey, how'd it go?"

"Andrea Baker is a shrew." She simply stated as she studied what he was looking at, a plan of the barn (not that there was much to it).

"That bad?" Matt noticed she looked less than pleased.

"Worse, but I did find out that the plant just canceled their day care tuition assistance, which means these people have no place to put their children while they work, and if the wives quit their jobs, they can't afford to live."

"Good, we have our answer. I guess we can expect a ransom demand from these guys then?"

"I don't know, have we identified the hostages yet?"

"Yeah, Meredith Cannon and her 7 year-old daughter, Carrie, her husband owns the plastics plant, so that ransom demand should be coming for her. The others don't seem to have a connection, just that they were in the park at that time. Henry and Gale Evans, married couple, she's a waitress, he's a carpenter, their son Bobby, he's four; Mike Gable, a farm worker, and his girlfriend, Bridget Coewl, she's a student at county college; and our last hostage is Hope Carson, an 80 year-old woman enjoying a nice warm day in the park." Matt finished reading the information they had.

"So we have two little kids, an old lady, and five adults…great."

"I'm about ready to try calling again, I don't know what their waiting for to make that demand."

Emily shrugged, "Um, how trigger-happy are those troopers?"

"Very, but they'll wait till we give it the go, I've got them busy trying to track down thermal imaging equipment. And while I'm on that, this is nuts, we have no equipment, if we can't talk these guys out, we're screwed."

"We'll just have to talk them out then." She told him, handing him the phone and watching him dial the number of Donovan's cell.

"What?!"

"It's Matt, Roy, I'm just checking on things."

"There fine in here. Are you ready to hear our demands." It really wasn't a question, more like they better be ready.

"Well, I'm thinking you want me to bring a number to Bill Cannon, as payment for his wife an child."

"$500,000, that's all we want."

"That's pretty reasonable of you Roy."

"We're not greedy men, we just want to take care of our families."

"I understand that. We know that the factory took away your tuition assistance, that's tough."

"Don't pretend like you have any clue man. Do you have kids? Huh? Do you make less than $35,000 a year. I do, and it sucks. We can't afford to live."

"I don't have kids, and the bureau pays a little better than that, but I remember what it was like growing up without a lot of money, and you're right, it sucks."

"Yeah, I'm sure you were really poor growin up." Roy said sarcastically.

"Hey Roy, can you tell Tommy and Archie that we were just talking to their wives, who are actually across the street now."

"Why?"

"Well, yours and Andy's girlfriend are on their way here too."

"You keep our girls outta this." He threatened.

"I can't do that Roy, not unless you let those hostages go." He could hear talking on the other end, the other HTs asking about their wives.

"Fine then, get me $500, 000 and will all be happy."

* * *

_**Barn Crime Scene: Thursday: 1/11/07: 4:24 p.m.**_

Cheryl turned her head slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat as she took in the scene before her. Blood spatter was literally everywhere, covering the walls, the floor, and the six bodies strewn about. She could pick out some of soft-chunked mash of organ spatter too. Bullet holes dotted the walls, where several had landed after either missing, or cutting cleanly through their target. Thin beams of light shown through the holes from the afternoon sun blazing outside. She could see where two dozen people had lain before they were carded off to the hospital or the morgue, pools of blood lay stagnant on the ground. They were fresh, so the only smell in the air was an almost overwhelmingly metallic bitterness.

The FBI crime scene unit was processing was still processing the scene, which could take days. Normally they would have let the local PD CSU process the scene, but this was considered an FBI screw-up at the moment, and the FBI cleaned up their own messes. The ME's had long gone, but the absence of the dead didn't make the scene any less horrific. Cheryl turned her head slowly to where Frank stood at her side, trying to distract herself from the carnage so she wouldn't get sick. Frank looked like he might throw up himself, macho man or no. On her other side stood the OPC agents, who they'd accompanied to the crime scene after the doctors told them that everybody still living was stable, Matt and Emily included.

Cheryl didn't know what she'd expected, but this wasn't it. She knew she should have, she knew how many people died, but how can you prepare for a scene like this?

"Did you guys get the recordings from the state police yet?" Cheryl asked Alex, her eyes still glued to the carnage in front of her.

"Uh no, seems they've miss placed them." Alex told her, a bitter tone in her voice.

"Great…" Cheryl's sarcastic tone trailed off as she watched the forensic techs process the room.

"What have you guys found so far?" Mark asked the people milling about the room.

"Not too much yet, bodies are still being autopsied, evidence still being retrieved. Got some of the ballistics back though. About of third of it, because man, I have never seen a case this many guns in one rooms." A tech close to them explained.

"So what did the ballistics say?" Mark asked impatiently.

"According to Samson, you've got at least one case of friendly fire." The tech told him solemnly.

"What?" Cheryl blurted out.

"One of the troopers on team B hit one of the troopers on team A."

"Whose team A and team B?" Frank asked.

"Uh, Flannery led B, Lehman led A. Her team went in first. Best we got now is that it was dark and filled with smoke from the shots, they all just aimed and fired." The tech said with a shrug.

Frank looked angrily toward his three companions. "And that is why you don't leave two negotiators with all a bunch of State Troopers. They don't have a fucking clue what their doing."

"Why didn't they call in Woodbridge? Or call you, Cheryl?" Alex asked curiously.

"I don't know. Something obviously went very wrong after I talked to them, made they had to make split second decisions." She suggested, defending her friends.

"Well, they made bad ones then." Mark commented.

"Agent Edwards have you ever negotiated with an irrational gun-wielding idiot?" Cheryl asked through her clenched teeth.

"No, always been OPC."

"Between them Matt and Emily, they have negotiated with over two hundred, 99 of those successful, and both of them are under forty, do you know how remarkable that is?"

"No, but I'm sure your just aching to tell me." He commented sarcastically, receiving a glare from his partner.

"The Bureau hasn't had a team like them paired together since Griggs and Carter in the seventies. If you had any experience in the CNU, you might know what I'm talking about. The fact is you don't. You people come in and muscle around, trying to find a little crumb on agents who you say screwed up. But neither of you have been on the front lines, not in the CNU, not in Terrorism, Behavioral, OC, or any other department. You don't know what it's like. You've never had the lives of a dozen people in your hands, and it's never been you voice, your words, as the only thing between them and death. So when you find yourself in that position, and I hope you do, you'll probably piss yourself, I'd love for you to come and tell me more about bad decisions. Until then you don't get to judge my agents." Cheryl was seething by the end of her diatribe, and Frank was reminded why nobody messed with Cheryl.

"With all due respect Agent Carrera, judging your agents' actions is our job." Alex tried to diffuse the situation her tactless partner had created. This was why she did all the talking.

"Then how about you wait until they are conscious." She spat.

The two OPC agents looked very uncomfortable, squirming slightly.

"I'm going back to the hospital," she turned to Frank, "you coming?"

"Oh yeah, right behind." He told her eager to leave the blood and guts covered barn.

Once they were in the car and driving, Frank looked over to Cheryl. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, they just pissed me off." She offered.

"I caught that. I think you scared them, but I don't know how much that helped Matt and Emily." The two OPC agents may take out their indignation on their investigation targets.

"I know. Damn it. Frank, we don't even know what happened in there. We don't know that they didn't screw up. Why the hell did they go in there with a bunch of state troopers?"

"Like you said, maybe they were given a bad choice."

"How could it have come to that so quickly, unless they screwed up negotiations?"

"Alright, Cheryl I'm going to say this once, so listen to me. Nobody except Matt and Emily knows what really went on there, why it came to this. Those useless troopers they questioned didn't even know, they didn't pay much attention to the negotiations after the first few hours. They had a lot to deal with out there, okay? If they couldn't diffuse that crisis, then do you really think any other two people could have? Remember we don't know what happened, so lets not crucify them before we have reason to?"

"Didn't I just give that speech?" She asked trying to lighten the mood, miserably.

"What you think I could actually come up with that on my own?" He asked her with a grin.

Ten minutes of nervous, but companionable silence later, they pulled up to the ER, now surrounded by reporters. Upon getting out of the car they were swarmed. Now the real circus would begin.

* * *

Due to the end of the semester crunch, updates will be scarce for a while, but I'll try to get up what I can, when I can. My eternal gatitude for reading and reviewing! 


	5. Chapter 5

_**Barn: Wednesday: 1/10/06: 6:42 p.m.**_

"This is getting nowhere." Matt said sighing.

"Donovan's wife said the same as the other two, same with Ackerbee's girlfriend. I've got nothing." Emily told him, holding her hands up in a gesture of empty-handedness.

"So where do we go from here?" They fell into silence.

"Have you tried using the kids yet?" She asked suddenly.

"What do you mean? The HT's kids?"

"Yeah, you know, the whole do they want their kids growing up thinking their fathers are murderers. Or better yet, their wives can't support those kids on their own, children's services will take them away." She suggested.

"You don't think that will set them off?"

"Start with the murderer thing, if it comes to it, we'll pull out losing their kids."

"These guys all love their kids, if we tell them they might go into foster care…" He trailed off, letting her fill in the blank.

"Introduce it positively then. Don't say we'll put your kids in the foster system, say if you give up we'll make sure they don't go in. Or we'll make sure their wives have enough financial help to keep them."

"That could work. Alright here goes."

"Do you have our money?" Roy demanded upon answering the phone.

"Uh, no not yet, the family is trying to get it together. How are the hostages doing in there?"

"They're fine. Scared shitless though man, you people bet hurry it the hell up."

"Well if your so concerned, how about letting them go?" Matt asked hopefully.

"What? You really think this is going to be that easy?" He demanded.

"No, but I was kind of hoping."

"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't really give a shit."

"I can tell. Well, since we're kind of stuck on this phone line how about you tell me about your kids?" Matt suggested, anything to stall.

"You got kids?" Roy asked, suddenly curious.

"No, not yet." Matt told him honestly.

"Do you want kids?"

"Yeah, I'd like to have a couple kids one day. It'd be nice." Matt answered, Emily now watching him intently.

"Why don't you have any yet?" Roy asked, not entirely believing him.

"It's been hard finding the right woman."

"You got that right. But once you find her, you know it immediately. You married yet?"

"No, like I said it's been hard finding her."

"But you have now, found her I mean." Roy could sense it in Matt's voice.

"Uh, I think I might have, yeah." Matt said, purposely not looking at Emily, who was watching open-mouthed.

"Then what the hell are you waitin for?"

"We haven't been dating that long, only about eight months." Dating your partner is hard enough, dating your partner in a job where you tend to reveal personal stuff is even harder.

"That's long enough to know. Marry the woman already. You won't regret it, and you won't regret the first time you see that wrinkled, goop covered, little thing come screaming out of her and into your world."

"You really love your kids, don't you?" Matt asked quietly, his mind still reeling from the image of Emily giving birth to his child. He chanced a look at her and evidently her mind was reeling too, her eyes were wide.

"Those kids and Gwen make it worth it. You think I'd be working at that shit plant if I didn't have them to take care of? I hate that place, but for my kids, it's worth it."

"If you love them so much, how are you going to feel knowing they get to grow up with their daddy in jail, hearing all about what a bad man he was?" Matt took the window and jumped right in.

"Gwen will tell them that I did it for them. She'll know and they'll know, that's all that matters."

"And what if this doesn't end well? Maybe they'll get to hear their daddy's a murderer? Maybe they'll here that he murdered a kid?" Matt challenged him.

"Well, then I guess it better not go bad. Get me our money." There was a loud click and he was gone.

Matt and Emily looked at each other, awkward now after his conversation with the HT.

"Uh, that could have gone worse." Matt said positively.

"Yeah, definitely could have gone worse." She nodded. They were silent for several minutes, looking awkwardly away from each other.

"Alright, look. I said some stuff, he said some stuff, that definitely needs our attention. But now we have to work, so how about we put it on hold until we get back to L.A.?" Matt suggested.

"Pretend we didn't hear any of that for now?" She asked.

He nodded.

"That will work. We agree to talk about this later?"

"Yeah, later."

"Alright, back to work." They each waited for the other one to offer some insight into the case, but both minds were fully occupied by something much different. Matt ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, so let's have this conversation in five minutes or less then?"

"While we're working?"

"We aren't doing anything now but standing in awkward silence, so I think we kind of have to." He explained.

"Okay…" she wasn't sure about this.

"I'll go first. I meant what I said. I want kids, but in the future, very, very future. And it took me awhile, but I found the right woman, and I know that scares you, so you can put it on the back burner, and we'll take this slow. I think we both need that." He finished in breath, before realizing he forgot one thing. "And I did picture you when he talked about…you know…that." He said referring to the man's description of childbirth.

"Okay. Your right I'm not ready for that, we need to take this slow. But I do care about you a lot, and I do want children, but not for a while. And I pictured…that too. But I'm sure as hell not ready for that." She breathed, she hadn't looked at him all through her diatribe, but he lifted her face now.

"So…we're good?" He asked.

"Yeah, we're good."

"So what's our next move?" He asked, waiting for her brilliant psychology background to kick in and bring them an answer.

"I think we still need to go with the you'll lose your kids approach."

"You don't think there's any other way?"

"He believes what he's doing is right, and that his children will believe that, we need to make him see that it's wrong, and that's what their going to know about him." She explained.

"What if we start with telling him we have their kids in custody, without their mothers, and we have psychologists explaining the situation to them, telling them their father's are monsters? I think we should save the other thing as our hail mary play." He told her.

"Hail Mary play?" She asked him completely bewildered.

"It's a football thing, a last resort." He explained.

"Then why not just say last resort?"

"Because it's more complicated than that."

"How so?"

"It's a team does when there's nothing left to do, and nothing will likely work, including the hail mary play. They throw the ball and pray it will work." Matt continued trying to explain the hopeless play to her.

"You don't think it will work?" Emily was still confused.

"It could, but it could set him off too."

"I told you, not if you breach it in the right way." She insisted.

"Hence the hail mary analogy, it will work if it's done it just the right, highly unlikely way."

"You think telling him this the right way is unlikely?" Now she was slightly irritated.

"No."

"Then the analogy doesn't make sense." She stated bluntly.

"It does if you- you know what, never mind."

"Okay, so we're just going to call it a last resort now?" She asked hopelessly. How had they gotten into this conversation?

"Yeah, we'll save that as a _last resort_." He stressed the last words.

Emily just shook her head, trying to figure out their inane conversation. Matt sighed, exasperated. If Cheryl had been there to hear that conversation, she would have given them another one of those you-two-are-very-strange-and-it's-cute-but-I'm-losing-my-patience looks.

_**

* * *

Sacred Heart Hospital, Woodbridge: Friday: 1/12/07: 8:24 a.m.**_

Duff came hurrying up to the group who had been occupying the hallway on and off for twenty hours. Emily's parents, sister, brother and sister-in-law were in with her, and Matt's father and Cheryl were in with him. Awkward didn't quite describe how she was feeling as she stood there with him, before exiting the room and leaving him to be alone with his son, who was intubated.

"We have a problem." Duff said to Cheryl, Frank, and Lia. Duff had been at the office the whole time, holding down the fort, while Frank was at the hospital. Temple and Binder were holding down the CNU while Cheryl stayed with her agents.

"Are you joking?" Cheryl asked bluntly, gesturing to the side-by-side rooms that held their friends while they struggled for life.

"I wish. The brass knows about Matt and Emily, and they aren't happy."

"How?" Lia asked him, visibly upset.

"The OPC from what I heard. Some of the Washington guys are on their way to L.A. already."

"They would have been anyway. It's not for Matt and Emily. They can't yell at two unconscious people, it won't have the right effect." Cheryl told them sarcastically.

"You're not worried about this?" Lia asked her.

"What can we do about it? I don't know how to protect them from this, and they can't really defend themselves at the moment."

"You realize they'll become sacrificial lambs the first sign that the FBI is taking any blame for this, right?"

"Yes, and I don't like it, but they took that risk when they decided to date. And I took that risk when I let them." She said regretfully, before switching topics. "Did you ask if the troopers found the recordings yet?"

"Yeah, and no dice."

Cheryl's phone suddenly went off. "Carrera."

"Special Agent Carrera, you're Agents Flannery and Lehman's supervisor correct?" A male voice asked.

"Yes, who is this?" She demanded.

"Charlie Barkley, CNN Investigate Team-" He started, but Cheryl interrupted him.

"How did you get this number?"

"I can't reveal my sources."

"Sure you can't. I have no comment." And she hung up.

"Reporters, already?" Frank asked hopelessly.

"They've been outside since yesterday, it was only a matter of time." She shrugged, she'd expected this. Then her phone went off again, and angrily she snapped it open.

"If you're a reporter I have no comments." She spat into the phone.

"No, I'm you boss." Greg Mathews spat back at her.

"Sorry sir, reporters are already calling." She said apologetically.

"So do you know anything else yet?"

"Forensics and the ME's are still working. But what we no so far is that Agent Lehman led a team in first, followed by Agent Flannery. They also believe most of the hostages we shot before our people went in, they were likely responding to the sound of shots fired. We also know there were three cases of friendly fire. There is still four bodies to autopsy yet though, so there may be more."

"Friendly-how the hell-Cheryl that happens in war zones!" He yelped loudly into her ear.

"From what we've been able to gather it was like a war zone in there sir. It was a dark barn, half filled with gun smoke before Lehman's team went in, and little visibility when Flannery's entered."

"Yet, they still all fired?" He sounded unimpressed.

"Yes sir, the HT's had guns, they had shot the hostages, and all my agents had were two dozen of California's state police. They have no training for this kind of thing."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why two of the Bureau's best negotiators screwed up negotiations so that it got to that point." He seethed.

"When they regain consciousness well know more." She offered, trying to placate him.

"Right. What this I hear about Lehman and Flannery fucking each other?" That was the one question Cheryl didn't want.

"Their dating sir."

"You knew about this then?" He said angrily.

"It wasn't interfering with their work-"

"What the fucking hell do you call this!" Cheryl pulled the phone from her ear as he bellowed at her.

"There is no proof that their relationship-" He cut her off.

"Don't give me that crap Cheryl. You were partnered with Flannery, did you too ever have a situation goes this bad."

"No sir." She knew where he was going.

"How long?"

"Five years sir."

"And you never fucked him, did you?"

"No sir."

"Not even once?" He coaxed.

"No sir."

"There you go. Five years, no fucking, you two do a great job, a year and a half, lots of fucking, and over a dozen people are dead. You tell me that has nothing to do with their relationship?"

"Sir, I trust Agents Lehman and Flannery. Their always professional in the office and in the field, and I don't believe their relationship is responsible for this…tragedy."

"You're two close to them Cheryl. Any other pair of agents you would have reamed their asses out for fucking, but not these two. We never should have put Matt under your command."

"Sir, with all due respect, that isn't true."

"Oh no, you didn't give them preferential treatment?" He was nearly taunting now.

"Yes sir, I did. Because they're two of the Bureau's top five negotiators, not because of any personal relationship I have with them."

"You keep telling yourself that, and maybe it'll be true. You should know they've got you on notice in Washington. You can still save your job, but Flannery and Lehman are toast." Even the click of his phone hanging up sounded angry.

Cheryl closed the phone and fell into one of the plastic chairs. She'd just got the verbal whipping of her life, and now when Matt and Emily finally woke up, she got to tell them that the Bureau was hanging them out to dry. The press would tear Matt and Emily apart, and the Bureau would just be thankful it wasn't them.

Suddenly doctors and nurses began to run into Emily's room, and her first thought was that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Emily never got to see the press and the Bureau destroy her character and all the good she'd ever done.

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_Updates on this, and the rest of my stories will be fast and furious in the next two weeks, while I have lots of time to write. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Previously:_

_Suddenly doctors and nurses began to run into Emily's room, and her first thought was that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Emily never got to see the press and the Bureau destroy her character and all the good she'd ever done._

Lia was quite literally on the edge of her seat, Duff had an arm around her. Both watched the close door nervously, waiting for the doctors to come out and tell them that she'd started bleeding again, or maybe that she was dead. Frank was on the phone, several feet away, but kept stealing glances at the closed room.

Alex and Mark were walking toward them, coffee cups in hands, chatting innocently. Seeing the nervous people, they looked curiously at them. Cheryl glared back, making her feeling about them clearly known. Frank caught her glare and actually managed an amused smile as he continued listening on his phone.

"Agent Carrera?" A nurse called as she came out of the room.

"Yes?" Cheryl asked, struggling to swallow a lump the size of Russia.

"Emily is awake now. She's weak and tired, but you can see her now." There were collective sighs from the people in the room, all thinking she'd be dead.

"Thank you." Cheryl stuttered still trying to process what she'd been told.

"Only for a little while though." The doctor warned her. She nodded and went into Emily's room, standing back as her family talked to her.

"Hey sweetie. We're all here for you. The doctor says you're going to be fine." Grace Lehman told her daughter.

"Hey pumpkin," Ben Lehman used the same pet name he'd used with his youngest for over thirty years.

"Mom? Dad?" Emily croaked out quietly, evidently not remembering too much about what happened.

"Do you remember anything Emmy?" John asked his sister.

"Nmmm…I don't know…bullets flying everywhere…smoke…Matt fall-oh god Matt," She was suddenly more coherent, her head flying around.

"What?" Her mother asked her softly.

"Matt…he got shot…where's Matt?..Please, please…tell me he isn't dead." She struggled to get the disjointed sentence out, but with tears already forming in her eyes, she stared at her family, who seemed completely at a loss.

Cheryl came forward then into Emily's view, this was her territory now.

"Cheryl? Matt?" She half pleaded, half asked.

"He's in the room next door. He was shot a few times, some of them are bad. He's intubated and still unconscious, but he's stable." Cheryl explained slowly, watching to make sure Emily understood it all, considering the state she was in.

Emily nodded slowly, "I want to see him." She announced this as she tried to get out of the bed, albeit weakly, flopping down after several seconds.

"Emily you can't see him yet, you're too weak. I know how badly you want to, but it took them three times in surgery before they could actually stop all the bleeding inside you." She explained still slowly. Emily's family had been watching her the whole time, disapproving looks on her parent's faces.

Emily nodded again, sadly. "Hostages?"

"Six are dead, the little girl and the county college student are in a couple more rooms in the ICU."

She turned her head away, trying to hide the tears she could feel starting to flood them. After a minute she turned back. "Police?"

"Eight are dead, seven more in the ICU. The others have all been sent home." She told her gently.

"The HTs?" Even in her weakened state, Cheryl could still hear the slight venom in her voice.

"Two were brought in alive, one died yesterday, one died about an hour and a half ago."

"18 pe-people dead…G-god we m-messed up." She was getting tired, and her composure weakening, making it more difficult for her to get a sentence out.

That was definitely not what Cheryl wanted to hear her say. Fortunately she didn't have to say anything back, a nurse came in an shooed them out.

Cheryl let out the breath she'd been holding as she left the room, and went to rejoin her friends, only to be stopped by Emily's parents.

"Agent Carrera, my daughter just nearly died. You could have been easier on her." Ben told her firmly.

"Mr. Lehman, I appreciate that you care about your daughter, but she isn't a child anymore. She wouldn't settle for anything less than the truth, especially concerning Matt." Cheryl told him, just as firmly.

"He's her partner right?" Grace asked.

"How much as Emily told you about Matt?" Cheryl asked suddenly curious that they didn't seem to know about the pair's relationship.

"She doesn't tell us much about her job, but I remember her saying her partner's name is Matt."

"She dating him mom." Abby Lehman clarified for her parents.

"What?" Both Emily's parents turned to Cheryl giving her questioning looks.

"Yeah, they've been dating for about…" Cheryl trailed off, trying to do the math in her head.

"Nine months." Once again Abby filled in.

"And she didn't tell us?" Grace looked offended.

"She knew you all wouldn't have approved. You'd just have given her a hard time." Abby explained, the only one in the family that Emily had evidently shared her relationship with.

"Why'd she tell you?" Her father asked her.

"Because I won't judge her Dad. The same reason I tell Emily everything." Abby was clearly not impressed with her parents.

They all knew that contrary to outside appearances, their family dynamic was strange. Grace and Ben Lehman were a reasonably well off, largely conservative couple, as was their first born. John followed his father's footsteps in marrying, having 2 beautiful, healthy children, and working as a step below a CEO is some high powered corporation. He was both conservative and protective of his younger sisters, which made him one of the last people they usually told, second to their parents.

Abby, as the middle child, was the screw-up, though in a much more toned down way than many families can claim. She'd gotten in trouble in school, took a year off before going to college to run off with some idiot with a gorgeous motorcycle, and followed few conventions. Though to the shock of all, she actually was engaged at the present time, to a lawyer no less, though he did work for the ACLU.

Emily was the baby, and struggled with the desire to please her parents, while still doing what she wanted to do. She had a rebellious streak that among other things, was responsible for the tattoo on her hip, consumption of a considerable amount of alcohol during her undergrad years, her lack of a husband and children, gun-toting job, and Matt. Not that she didn't love her tattoo, have no regrets concerning the alcohol, relish her job, and yes, love Matt.

That was why Abby and Emily were so close to each other, while being mildly distant from the rest of their family. Grace and Ben didn't like their youngest daughter's job, but they had learned to tolerate it, since their daughter enjoyed it so much. But sleeping with her partner? Their first complaint would be that it was tacky, and would leave Emily with the reputation of a loose woman. Second complaint, Matt did make over $100,000, actually he didn't make close to that. And he toted a gun too.

After a long period of silence, Ben Lehman finally spoke, addressing Cheryl, "You let them date? Aren't there rules about that?"

"There is nothing written about partners dating, however had it been any other two other people I wouldn't have allowed it." She told him in an acidic tone.

"I didn't know the FBI condoned favoritism." He bit back at her.

Cheryl took a deep breath before speaking tensely, "Mr. Lehman, how much do you know actually know about Emily's job?"

"She's a negotiator, and she teaches other agents sometimes. We don't like to hear the specifics, we don't like to think of her is situations like that." He seemed troubled as he spoke.

"Alright, well I'm going to tell you a little more about it. There are over 300 negotiators in the FBI, your daughter is in the top five, as is Matt. Hell, Emily wrote the training manual, which is used across the country. I have two of the best negotiators in the entire bureau under my command, when their in the field the HT is going down, so yes I choose to overlook the fact that they go home together." Cheryl finished, seething.

"Emily is really that good?" Grace asked quietly.

"Yeah, which is why this…" she gestured to the hospital rooms, "is so unthinkable for all of us."

They slipped into silence and after a minute Frank, who was on the phone, waved Cheryl over to him. Duff and Lia getting up to follow.

"What's going on Frank?" she asked, brows furrowed.

"The hostages families are pissed, making noise about suing." He told her solemnly.

"Who? The Bureau?"

"Yeah, and Flannery and Lehman personally."

"On what grounds? They can't sue us for not saving their families." She commented incredulously.

"If they can prove that it's because Flannery and Lehman were neglected their duties they can, and it seems they got wind that their relationship isn't platonic."

"Shit. That means the press will know soon, which means the Bureau's going to be getting ready to lay the whole thing on them." Her face was the very picture of tense.

"But that isn't fair, they can't defend themselves! We don't even know what happened!" Lia interjected, a rare burst of anger in her voice.

"Easy Lia, they haven't done anything yet," Frank assured her, "besides I've seen Matt get his ass in some sticky situations and still manage to somehow pull it out."

The agitated group fell silent, slowly ambling over to the chairs they had occupied on and off for god knows how long at this point.

**

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Thanks for reading and reviewing everybody!


	7. Chapter 7

_**5:37 p.m.**_

Emily had slept about eight hours and now Alex, Mark, their boss, Jeff Thompson from D.C., Cheryl, her boss, Greg Mathews, his boss, Bob Krone, both of whom flew in from D.C., Donald Bilburn, a PR guy from D.C., and the Captain of the State Troopers were all crammed in her room to finally hear her speak. This would be their first glimpse of what happened at the barn- the phantom recordings were still lost. The troopers were now insisting they sent the recordings over to the OPC, but OPC was insisting that they hadn't gotten anything.

Frank, Duff, and Lia weren't allowed in (Lia offered to rig Cheryl up with a mic, but they were afraid it might interfere with all the machines Emily was hooked up to) and waited nervously outside with Emily's now irate family, as they were also not allowed in.

"Alright agent Lehman, we're going to record you, and I'm warning you now not to lie." Bob Krone warned her.

Emily nodded weakly at the man she'd never met, turning to Cheryl for a little guidance. Cheryl went against her better judgment and mouthed that everything would be fine.

"Alright, you can start now. When did everything go wrong?" They were not being gentle with her at all.

"We'd been trying to negotiate with the HT, Roy Donovan for several hours. We'd tried everything we could to convince him to give up, but every time we got close, the other three would talk him out of it." She paused to cough quietly and sip some water before continuing her story in her harsh rasp.

"Matt told him that his kids would be taken by child services, because his wife wouldn't be able to afford to take care of them on her own. He said that his kids would probably be split up, and that their foster families would tell them that their daddy was a bad man who tried to hurt lots of people. He seemed-" She was cut off.

"Whose idea was this tact?" Krone demanded.

"Mine," she said closing her eyes momentarily against the pain that had only be slightly numbed by the morphine. Krone and Mathews gave each other solemn looks and shook their heads.

"He seemed to be responding well, he asked Matt what he had to do to stop that from happening. Matt told him that if he gave up and let the hostages go, we'd talk to child services and get his wife financial assistance. Matt told him that the FBI would do everything it could to help their wives take care of their children. He said he'd think about it and hung up. That's when Cheryl called."

"What time did you call?" Mathews barked at Cheryl

"A quarter to one that morning sir." He nodded.

"Go ahead Lehman."

"Everything was going well, so I told her that. I filled her in on what had been going on, said we were making progress and then hung up." Mathews and Krone turned to Cheryl, who nodded confirmation.

"Donovan called back and said…"

* * *

_**Barn: Wednesday: 1/10/06: 12:52 p.m.**_

"We want to do this, we want to let these hostages go, but how do we know you'll keep your word?" Donovan demanded of Matt.

"You're going to have to trust me, I don't really have anything to prove my honesty." Matt explained.

"That ain't good enough man, we need somethin' more than that." He demanded back.

"What if we tell your wives? You four might be in prison, but your wives will be out, they can hold us to this." He suggested using the plural to make sure he knew the FBI was behind it, that it wasn't just Matt promising this.

He was silent for a while, before finally speaking. "Alright, but I want to hear you people explain this to them, leave the line open while you talk to them."

"I can do that, will you hold on for a minute?"

"Yeah, I ain't goin nowhere."

"Thanks." Matt said, before covering the phone with his hand, about to gesture to Emily to get the wives, though she was already on her way. Ten minutes later she'd returned with four angry women in tow.

Matt took the phone off hold, "Okay, Roy we've got them hear, and I'm going to explain this plan to them." Matt only heard silence back though.

"Roy, you still there?"

Again he heard nothing, but then a distant, "stupid douche," and a click.

"Roy? Roy? Roy! Man what happened?" Matt called into the phone just before it gave a dial tone.

"What happened?" Emily asked frowning.

"I don't know, he was there and then…shit, shit, shit." Matt waited a minute and then tried redialing the phone, Emily and four nervous women watching him.

It rang and rang but nobody picked up. He hung up, waited another few minutes and dialed a second time. Again, nobody picked up. He was starting to get very worried.

"I'm going to take them back across the street." Emily told him, before leading the women away.

"I ain't a head a cattle lady!" Andrea Baker spit.

"Stop whining, it's less than a thirty-foot walk." Emily hissed back. Matt heard a slight bit more bickering until they were out of earshot.

He paced in front of the phone, trying it over and over again, but nobody would pick up. He ran a hand through his hair, sweat beginning to dot his forehead. _What had gone wrong? He was going to give up, what had happened? Why wasn't anybody picking up?_

Emily returned shortly, looking both pissed (evidently the wives had stopped cooperating), and worried. "What's going on Matt?"

"I don't know. He was there, no he isn't, no one's picking up now." He rambled.

"Alright, we're going to have to go tactical." She said unwavering.

"Are you serious? Em, we don't have HRT with us, and we don't lead assaults."

"We've been trained, and I already talked to the state police, and have two teams ready. One of us can go in the back, the other the front."

"You prepared for this?" He asked incredulously.

"Matt, you know how hard negotiations are when there's more than one HT. We've been here for hours, yeah I prepared for it. I would have ordered them send of agents if I thought they'd get here in time. But it's just going to be us and these state police."

"This is such a bad idea." He mumbled.

"You don't think I know that?"

"I know, I know. We lost contact we have to go in, it's our only option." He knew she was right, but he didn't like, and as he looked at her, he could tell she didn't like it either.

"So whose taking the front, whose taking the back?" She asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Flip for it?"

"Sure, heads."

"Uh I was going to choose that."

"Fine, I'm tails."

"We're flipping for who goes in the back or the front?"

"Do front."

He nodded, tossed a quarter in the air, and caught it flipping it over. "Uh, it's Washington. I'm in the front then."

"Alright, the hostages are closer to the back, so my team will go in first, okay?"

"Sounds good, do the cowboys have rifles?" He asked wearily.

Emily laughed, "Yes, not quite as fancy as Frank's toys, but they have some less pimped out semi-auto things. You're taking your side-arm right?"

"Of course, my aim is much better with this," he said patting his holster.

"Alright lets go round up to cowboys." She said trying to lighten the mood.

Ten minutes later Emily was positioned at the back of the barn, and Matt was in the front. She saw her dozen companions behind her, checking their weapons and looking way to eager to have any real experience in what they were about to do. Second later they heard the first few hollow pops of gunfire. _Shit._

She gave the signal and they rammed the heavy steel post against the door, breaking in. Emily went in first, gun drawn, troopers quickly filing in behind her. The room was already thick with the smoke of recently fired weapons, but even she couldn't see it, the smell of gun powder was so strong it stung her nose. The HT's were less than ten feet from them, and they turned to their vistors, three continuing to focus on them, as the other one fired on the last standing hostage.

The other seven hostages had already become bodies littering the floor. Emily could feel her hands sweating and she struggled to grip her gun, and aiming she squeezed her trigger twice, and twice more, the troopers beside her following suit. Simultaneously, the HTs began firing at Emily and her troopers. Her ears were ringing, as she crouched down, struggling to find any sort of protection against the assault of bullets. She could here the awful wet thuds of bullets impacting the bodies of the troopers that came in with her. Worse she could feel the spray of their blood on her hands, her clothes, and her face. She could hear the soft crash of a body hitting the floor now and again, but didn't dare turn her head to look- she had to keep her aim steady and straight. Struggling to fire and stay low, she suddenly tasted the salty, bitter metallic taste of blood- the spray had landed in her mouth.

Running out of bullets, Emily ejected her empty clip, and slammed a fresh one in, chambering around before point her weapon back at the quartet of armed psychos. She only got three rounds off before she heard the squishy thud and felt an intense sting in her abdomen like none other she'd felt before. Clutching her stomach and momentarily sinking to the floor, she gasped in pain. Then finally get a look, a really good look, she saw seven of her troopers already on the floor already. Breathing heavily, she steadied her hand, and stood up once again, one arm practically holding her abdomen together. She found her target, one of the three HTs still standing, and fire off, round after round after round, ignoring everything else around her, including the sound of the front doors bursting open.

Then she felt another bullet rip through her flesh, this time further up, and fell helplessly and exhausted to the floor. She could hear another dozens shoes gathering inside, and another barrage of guns entering the fight. She ever saw the rest of her team move over toward Matt's, literally stepping over bodies…including hers. That was when she rolled over and saw Matt firing on the HTs. She could barely make him out through all the smoke, but he was there. She saw him come toward her, saw him shoot down and HT, and then he fell…

* * *

_**Sacred Heart Hospital, Woodbridge: Friday: 1/12/07: 7:01 p.m.**_

"That's all I have. I remember seeing him fall, and then waking up here." She rasped out, exhausted, her voice almost gone after weaving the story.

"Thank you Emily," Cheryl said softly seeing how tired the other woman was, before turning to the suits that surrounded her, "We need to let her get some rest now."

The suits all began nodding at each other and filing out, however Krone turned back to her before leaving, "We'll have more questions for you later Agent Lehman."

Emily nodded miserably, praying for them to just get out of her room, and let her enjoy her drug-induced sleep in peace. Cheryl squeezed her hand reassuringly, and gave her a sympathetic half-smile, before turning to leave.

"Cheryl?" She asked as loud as her voice would allow.

"Do you need a doctor?" Cheryl asked, turning back to face her.

"No. No, can you come back later?"

Cheryl nodded, before leaving; she didn't even need to ask for what. She expected Emily to give her twenty questions about the past 20 hours that she'd missed.

Emily was left in the desolate quiet of the empty hospital room. Now her only distractions from her thoughts were the steady beep beeping of the heart monitor, and the hollow drip from the IV bag. They proved fairly useless distractions, as her mind began to wander through that morning, or well, she supposed a few mornings ago.

The way too early wake-up call from Cheryl, the dead mouse rotted to the floor, her and Matt's mutual desire to do nothing, but spend the day naked in bed. That caused her mind to turn to Matt, Cheryl had said he was on a respirator, and that scared her more than she ever thought it could. She'd give anything to have him in bed with her right then, anything to feel the heat of his body against hers, as it had been so many nights over the last almost year.

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_I have my files back, so Just Breathe is once again up and running. Thanks for hanging in through another hiatus (I promise not to try and do this many stories at once again, it's just too hard to keep them straight). Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated!_


	8. Chapter 8

"Did you ever get the tapes from the troopers?" Cheryl asked Alex upon coming out of Emily's room.

"The troopers found them, and are supposed to deliver them ASAP."

"Good, I trust when those tapes corroborate her story, the official report will reflect that Agents Flannery and Lehman's personal relationship wasn't responsible for this?" Cheryl asked it to the larger group, which was still gathered outside Emily's room discussing her statement.

"It's too soon to tell Agent Carerra, we still need forensics and the ME's reports." Jeff Thompson, SAC for the OPC's LA branch answered. Donald Bilburn. Bob Krone. Greg Mathews

"Yes, but being that they weren't engaged in any unprofessional activities at the time, providing the tape backs-up Agent Lehman, then their relationship can't really be at fault, can it?" Cheryl was counting to ten silently in her head after each time she spoke to keep from screaming at them.

"We'll need to go over the troopers' statements; that tape can't tell us, and Agent Lehman wouldn't tell us if they were distracted by other things." Thompson explained.

"And if after the smoke clears, you determine that my agents did everything right, then how will the Bureau spin this to the press?" She asked, looking toward Donald Bilburn, the PR guy from D.C.

"I don't see that happening Agent Carrera." He told her.

"So, you're expecting to hand these two to the press on a platter, and watch them torn apart?"

"You're being a little melodramatic, not to mention graphic, but yes, the Bureau expects the relationship of these agents was at fault." They wouldn't even entertain other possibilities.

"I am not being overdramatic Mr. Bilburn. I've seen what happens to good agents when the Bureau needs a scapegoat."

"I don't think scapegoat is the appropriate term here, Agent Carerra."

"Then what would you call it? Fall guys? Bureau's whipping boys for this particular occasion?" Cheryl was pissed, and letting this guy know it.

"Cheryl, watch what you say. I told you that you're already on notice." Greg Mathews, her boss, warned.

Cheryl didn't hide a look of disgust, as she walked away.

"Where are you going Agent Carrera?" Mathews demanded, not pleasantly.

"To check on Matt." She answered, without turning around.

Lia, Duff, and Frank exchanged worried looks, they were still glued to the same plastic chairs they'd been for the last day or so, and had seen the whole exchange. They were going to have to talk to Cheryl soon, or slip valium in her coffee, she was losing it. If someone didn't clamp her mouth shut soon, she would not only be unable to help Matt and Emily, but go down with them.

Meanwhile, Cheryl knew she was being stupid not censoring herself, but she was so angry at Bilburn, she just couldn't help herself. They wouldn't even consider that Matt and Emily did everything right, consider that HT's are very unpredictable, consider that maybe going it with two dozen cowboys with badges might have been a bad move, but not going in would have been worse. She was so angry at them, and angry at the victims families for even considering the idea of suing, the HTs for not thinking of a better solution to their problems, and that goddamned plant for not thinking about the well-being of its employees before removing their benefits.

She was surprised upon entering the room to find, not only Matt's father sitting by the bed, but also Emily's parents and brother. They were staring at Matt as if some advanced form of x-ray vision could acquaint them with him. It seemed they wanted to know the man their daughter was pretty much risking her career to be with, the man she'd almost died with. Unfortunately for them, Matt hadn't even batted and eye yet; he remained in a blissful lala land. Lucky him.

* * *

_**Sacred Heart Hospital, Woodbridge: Saturday: 1/13/07: 8:21 a.m.**_

Cheryl was back in Emily's room in the morning, after being dragged to the hotel by Lia, and the guys, the same one that Matt and Emily's families were staying at. They'd cornered her after she left Matt's room, and told her she needed a drink; Cheryl didn't object. Before they could tell her she was losing it, she held up a hand, and assured them she knew that already. She also knew she'd have to keep her head about her better, and work damage control now. It was just hard when one of her closest friends and former partner still hadn't woken up.

"Hey." Emily's weak voice brought Cheryl from her thoughts.

"Hey, I'm sorry they were so rough on you yesterday. The Bureau's a little freaked over this." Cheryl offered, wondering why she was defending the people she'd yelled at yesterday.

"It's fine, I expected it. How bad is it?" Emily didn't waste time searching for the answers she wanted.

"It could be worse."

"Do they know about us?"

"Yeah, they know, and before you ask, they aren't happy about it."

"Cheryl?" Emily was watching her wearily.

"Yes?"

"You're in trouble aren't you?" _Can't get anything past a shrink can you?_ Cheryl thought briefly amused.

"I'm on notice in Washington." Why bother trying to lie?

"Damn it. I'm sorry you got pulled into this." Emily kept her voice low so she could talk longer, and didn't cough as much.

"It's fine. I knew there could be repercussions when I chose to allow you and Matt to work together."

"Still…they're putting this whole thing on us aren't they?" She looked off to her morphine drip, trying to see how much they were giving her. Whatever it was it wasn't enough.

"Well, they haven't made any former statements besides that they're investigating yet. When they finish their investigation, then they'll put it all on you and Matt."

"Deservedly so, this whole mess is my fault…" Emily trailed off sadly, and Cheryl just stared at her stunned for a moment.

"How exactly is this your fault?" She demanded.

"I told Matt to use the tactic with the kids, I got the troopers ready to breach, I told Matt it was our only option. That's how, all of my bad ideas. Matt just trusted me." Emily started coughing, and grabbed for her water, taking small sips.

"First, the thing with the kids was working-"

"Until it didn't."

"You don't know what made them turn in there, and nobody ever will. As for the troopers, you worked with what you had, you were right, you couldn't have gotten HRT there before they started shooting. So, yes it was your only option. And, by the way, Matt trusted you long before you became his girlfriend."

"I just…I feel like we could have done something different to prevent all this."

"It's called hindsight, Emily."

"Shouldn't you be pissed at us?" Emily wondered allowed, recalling the few times she and Matt had issues during a negotiation and had to sit through a tongue lashing from Cheryl.

"It's kind of hard to be pissed when one of you is still on a respirator, and the other is in pain just lying still. Besides, knowing you two, the guilt trips you'll walk away with after this is more than sufficient, considering you didn't really do anything wrong."

Emily didn't have a chance to respond as a young man in a suit came scurrying in, a two folded stacks of blue and white papers in his hand.

"I'm looking for Emily Lehman?"

"Who are you?" Emily asked, coughing and going for her water again.

"Carl Bipson, a courier with Sanders, Rush, and Brenner, civil law attorneys. I need you to sign this Miss." He came to the opposite side of the bed Cheryl was sitting near, and handed Emily a pen, holding a clipboard for her to sign.

With a struggle she did, and he handed her one of the sheaths of paper. "Do you know where I can find a Mathew Flannery?"

"The next room, but he's unconscious, he can't sign anything. Can you give it to me?" Cheryl asked him.

"Yeah, but you have to sign for it."

"Sure." Cheryl signed and took the other sheath of papers from him. "What is it Emily?"

"We're being sued for wrongful deaths." Emily was looking toward her morphine drip again, aching to turn the thing up so it would knock her into oblivion. This couldn't be happening.

"Damn, Frank mentioned that might happen." Cheryl had taken the papers from her, and was reading off them.

"Well they'll win, they have a dead four year-old boy to hold over us."

"Yeah, well collectively you and Matt have six bullets, that should win you both a little sympathy."

"Not if whatever jury they seat hears that we're sleeping together. Then Matt will look like a horny frat boy, and I'll just look like a slut." Emily momentarily closed her eyes against the pain her louder speaking brought on.

"Weren't you an optimist not long ago?" Cheryl asked with a smirk.

"Blame it on the morphine."

"I will. By the way, your parents know your dating Matt now, and they weren't impressed.

"I didn't figure they'd be, that's why I didn't tell them."

"They also don't like me very much." Cheryl gave her a half-grin.

"Uh oh, what did I miss?" Emily returned her smile, she would have paid to see an argument between Cheryl and her parents.

"I didn't use kid gloves with you, and I'm letting you date your partner, but more so because I didn't apologize for either."

"Oh, they must have taken that well. Thank god I've been sleeping most of the day."

"Yeah, on that, Lia, Duff, and Frank having been wanting to see you, so I'm send them in, and then try some damage control. I'll check in later." Cheryl got up to leave, but was stopped by Emily's voice.

"How's Matt?"

"Still unconscious, but still stable." She really had hoped to avoid this conversation.

"So…no change?"

"No, no change."

"What- uh, what are his chances?" Emily was biting her lip now, in her characteristic nervous habit.

"The doctors don't really know yet, it's just waiting right now." For the first time since she gotten called down, Cheryl actually sounded tired.

Emily nodded, teeth still worrying her lip, and tears glistening in her eyes, but not yet falling to her cheeks.

Cheryl retreated for a moment, and squeezed her hand, "I promise, as soon as the doctors say it's safe to move you from that bed, I'll make sure you get in to see him."

Emily nodded again, afraid to speak as she struggled to stop from crying. Cheryl gave her hand one last pat, before leaving to find Lia, Frank, and Duff.

* * *

_Thanks everybody for sticking with it through the hiatus, and thank you mariedawn2 and hunnielove for reviewing!_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Sacred Heart Hospital, Woodbridge: Monday: 1/15/07: 11:57 a.m.**_

Cheryl couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the idea that it had been five days since she sent Matt and Emily down here. Somehow it felt both like it had and hadn't been that long ago at the same time. It felt like the last five days had been so much longer, so much harder than any she had previously experienced. All this in only five days? It seemed impossible. Several people were dead, her two best negotiators were still in the hospital, one still unconscious, they were being sued, the Bureau was investigating their actions, Cheryl was on notice. All that in just five days? Was it really possible that everything could fall to hell so quickly?

At the same time it felt like yesterday that she woken them up and demanded they get themselves to Sunset Grove. That it became clear they were in the same bed, that she expected that and didn't care. That she called them demanding to know why the hell they hadn't gotten to the scene yet, and they'd grumbled about farm country. It especially felt like yesterday that she'd gotten a call from the Woodbridge police, describing the carnage they found, her negotiators among it. In some twisted, David Fincher sort of way, it felt like she'd been walking through a disturbingly realistic nightmare, one that wouldn't stop.

It wouldn't stop because she'd just gotten a call from Alex, the agent with the OPC, who announced that they'd finished with the tapes and statements of the surviving troopers. Yes, Emily's story was confirmed by the tape, no it gave no indication of the two behaving unprofessionally. As for the troopers, they hadn't paid a whole lot of attention to the negotiators, but none had seen anything unprofessional. Sure the two negotiators seemed friendly, but who wasn't friendly with their partner? No, this didn't clear the agents. D.C. was sending three very experienced negotiators from Dallas, New York, and Las Vegas to analyze the scene.

They wanted a statement from Matt, if he ever woke up. Yes, if. He was still unconscious, and whenever she spoke to the doctors their looks weren't encouraging. In fact, they were the opposite, the tight lipped, sad-eyed, sympathetic looks they tend to give as they shake their heads and explain that now it's just a waiting game. Fuck the waiting game, she just wanted him to open his eyes. She was getting tired of making sure she and Lia weren't alone with Emily, because she knew Emily wouldn't ask anybody except them about Matt. They didn't want to tell her that Matt wasn't awake, and that the doctors couldn't definitively say he would.

But, Cheryl had just spoken to Emily's doctor; she was doing great, healing nicely. He even said it would be _good_ to allow her in a wheelchair for a short while. _Wonderful. _It wasn't that she wasn't thrilled her friend was getting better, it just meant that she had to keep her promise. Keeping that promise meant telling Emily about Matt, and Cheryl had been avoiding further discussions on her former partner since the last she'd had with Emily, two days ago. She could tell that her strong, brazen negotiator had struggled not to cry, and Cheryl knew this time would be different only in that Emily might not succeed in that struggle.

"Hey." Cheryl announced herself as she pushed in the door to Emily's room, where her friend sat alone, staring out the window.

"You realize we're alone now?" Emily asked turning toward her, smirking.

"Noticed the dodging, did you?" she asked, coming to stand by Emily's bed.

"I'm not stupid Cheryl, and you and Lia weren't always subtle about it."

"I know you aren't, and I know you know why we were doing it."

Emily nodded. "How bad is he?"

"The doctors haven't said much. He hasn't woken up, not even to blink an eye. They don't know why he hasn't, or if he even will at this point." She'd taken Emily's hand as she delivered the news.

"And I suppose the longer he's out, the less likely he'll come back?"

"Yeah…But, I have good news. You're doctor says it's alright for you to get out of that bed for a bit."

"I can see him now?" Emily's voice wavered for the first time in the conversation.

"Yeah, as soon as the nurse get here with a wheelchair."

Emily closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the pillow, a sad relief washing over her. It wasn't long before her feelings performed a 180 and a tears slipped down her cheek. She was relieved sure, but she was also terrified. Matt was in the room right next door to hers, he was so close, but he'd felt so far away. She hadn't seen him since the shootout, she hadn't been able to picture him as he was next door. Emily hadn't really accepted how bad he was, she couldn't because she couldn't see him to force herself to believe it. It was still just Matt, with that thick head of hair that resembled a six year-old who just rolled out of bed, and that teasing smile that if she wasn't careful, could bring her to her knees. She didn't know if she was ready to see him any other way, ready to face that reality.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just…just ready to wake up from this." Cheryl nodded her agreement, just as harassed looking nurse came into the room with a wheelchair.

"Hi there, are you ready to get in this chair honey?" Her name tag said Betty, and she sounded exhausted.

"Uh, yeah, what about the…?" Emily gestured to IV tubes.

"Just give me a second." She moved two bags from the railing, one large and one much smaller, and moved them to the pole attached to the back of the chair.

"Okay, now you can just scootch over towards me, and we'll ease you into this chair." Emily did as she was told, and it was only with a little difficulty and pain she managed to get into the chair.

"Thank you."

"No problem sweetheart, you're one of the few on this floor that behaves. I like you. Are you going with her?" Betty turned to Cheryl.

"Yes, we're just going next door."

"Oh, to see Matt?"

"Yeah…" Emily and Cheryl looked surprised at the nurse.

"Ladies, hospitals aren't as exciting as the TV shows them; we always remember the cute ones, even if they are sleeping." She gave them a wink.

"Oh, I can't wait to tell him that," Cheryl laughed.

_If he wakes up_, Emily immediately thought, a lump planting itself in her throat at the thought.

"By that look on your face, I'm guessing he's yours?" Betty addressed Emily, whose facial expression matched her thoughts.

Emily nodded as Cheryl took possession of the chair's handles, and started to guide her out.

"You've got her then?"

"Yes, we'll be fine," Cheryl assured the nurse. Emily felt like a child.

Emily began counting in her head as Cheryl directed her to the door, trying to calm herself for what was about to come. It wasn't working well. The door to Matt's room was open, and the trip there wasn't long enough. Emily saw him as soon as they got near, and the horror built inside her the closer they got. Cheryl parked her alongside Matt's bed, and waited, watching her a minute to make sure she wasn't going to panic.

"I'm going to get some coffee, I'll be back a little later." Satisfied, she patted Emily's hand and left the room, closing the door behind her, and peering through the window once to convince herself, before heading for the cafeteria.

Emily could feel her heart beating in every vein in her body, and struggled to swallow the feeling of a giant lump blocking her throat. Matt was resting on his back, eyes closed, face pale, and nearly swallowed by the tube down his throat. It almost looked like somebody had shoved a vacuum hose down his throat, and taped in there. The IV line led from the back of his hand to pole holding three bags, of what, she had no idea. Wires led from where they were monitoring his vitals, and boxy machines surrounded the head of the bed, with a few screens positioned above her head.

It wasn't the machines that unnerved her, she'd had enough in her room the last few days, they had become normal. It was how pale he was, as if every bit of color had drained from his body, and with it, every ounce of his life. His skin, his lips, his hands, he didn't look _real_. He looked like a wax figure, like they use to show the dead in movies and TV. He didn't look alive, and she was terrified to touch him. She was afraid he'd feel cold and waxy, that he would be as fake as he looked. With a considerable amount of trepidation, Emily reached her hand out, and at first, just brushed it softy against his.

She was struck by the tiniest sensation of heat from a source other than her own body. Slightly relieved, she reached her hand out again, and slowly wrapped it around his. She brought her other hand up, and with both brought his hand against her body. He wasn't cold, he wasn't waxy; he was warm, and he was alive. She placed a kiss upon his hand, and still holding it in one hand, she brought the other to his face, brushing away the hair that had fallen across his closed eyes. Then like the end of a draught, her bloated tears ducts erupted, the product of her emotions spilling down her cheeks.

"Matt…" She was able to get his name out, and had to take several deep breaths to calm the sobs that had her whole body heaving.

"I need you." She wasn't going to tell him to wake up, to open his eyes, to get out of that bed, to come back down to earth. No, she wasn't going to say any of that, it felt to false, too dressed up. So she went to the very heart of the issue.

"I need you, I need you, I need you with me so badly right now." She chanted it as if it were an affirmation.

"I'm scared. We could lose everything, Matt. Our jobs, our homes, everything we own, they'll turn us into pariahs. But, but, I don't care. I don't care what they do to us if you'll just smile at me again." It was the truth, she didn't care about the Bureau or the lawsuit; she'd deal with both over losing Matt.

"I need to you tease me, Matt. I need you," she brought her face close to his and whispered to him. She kissed his cheek, careful to avoid the wires, and laid her head next to his. Her tears still fell, soaking the sheets.

* * *

She didn't know it, but a small audience had gathered outside watching through the glass. The elderly couple watching had gone looking for their daughter, and found her not in her room. They'd been about to track down a nurse, when the man got a glimpse of the sight before them. They found their daughter crying and talking to her unconscious partner, and they saw her kiss him, and rest her head beside his. It became painfully clear to both that their little girl was in love, and chose not to include her parents in this wonderful discovery. It was painful because she felt she couldn't share it with them, and because it was obvious she was going in a path neither favored. 

They had been in and out of their daughter's room over the last few days, but never asked her about Matt. They hadn't even mentioned him, because they didn't know what to say or ask. They had assumed Emily would breach the topic, that she'd want to tell them about him. But she hadn't brought him up in front of them again. Now they wished they had asked her about him, he was obviously very important to her.

The other member of Emily's small audience was her sister, who'd also stumbled upon the scene on the way to visit her. Only she was watching both scenes: her sister crying over her lover, and her parents realizing for the first time that their youngest was all grown up, and carving out a path for herself-their approval be damned. Abby Lehman's heart broke for her sister, the only member of her family she'd ever gotten along with.

When they were little it had been Abby and Emmy, their parents inseparable, pint-sized rebels that were best friends their whole lives. Even at school they were together whenever their schedules would allow, and hardly ever fought. Feeling alienated at home, they forged a bond together that connected them beyond the typical sister fights. Not to mention that Emily had had very few friends at school, and would always run to Abby when something was bothering her. Abby hadn't called her sister 'Emmy' since high school.

"Abby?" She was startled by her mother's distracted voice.

"Yeah mom?"

"We're we bad parents?" Grace was still watching her daughter through the glass.

"What? Of course not." Abby was taken aback by the question, until she realized it's origin. "You just never understood us, not like we understood each other. Em cares about you, that's why she didn't want to tell you about Matt. She didn't want to fight with you both."

"Is she in love with him?" Ben wondered.

"She hasn't said as much, but I think it's become pretty clear." Abby nodded toward the glass.

They were soon joined by a grey-haired man, who looked tired and strained, until he saw the scene around his son's room, then he looked almost amused. Brynn Flannery recognized the people staring into his son's room as Matt's girlfriend's family, but he didn't really know them. They'd visited with Matt once, but didn't seem to know what to do in the situation. Abby had visited a few times, and even spoken to him about Matt. In turn Abby had sat with Brynn in Emily's room, when she was still out. He hadn't felt comfortable meeting her until Matt was awake, then it would mean something to his son.

It took him a minute to realize what they were all looking at, and then he regarded the scene with a sad smile. In her position resting by him, Emily almost blended in with the machines, tubes, and wires. His son found a woman that cared a lot about him, but he may not live to share a life with her. It figured his son would go for a redhead. Before she died his wife taught her boys to respect strong women, and redheads were known for being a particularly strong and stubborn type of woman. He also knew Matt had always loved a challenge.

"Hello Abby, how's your sister?"

"She was just crying, but I think she might have fallen asleep. She's really worried about Matt." Abby turned toward him.

"How's she holding up with everything else?" Cheryl had told him about the Bureau's investigation and the civil suit.

"She's upset, but doesn't say much. I think she's more concerned about Matt."

"She shouldn't worry so much. Matt will wake up." He said this with absolute conviction.

"How can you be so sure?" Abby didn't want to sound callous, but was surprised by his certainty.

"Because I know Matt. He doesn't let go when he's found something good."

"Emily?" Abby asked, wondering at his very Irish tendency to talk in those quasi-riddles.

Brynn nodded. "Besides, I'd feel it if he were going to go. I felt it before his mom went."

Abby was about to ask him about this, when Cheryl came round the corner, coffee in one hand, stuffing her cell in her pocket with the other. She started when she saw them all in front of Matt's room.

"Oh…hello?" What the hell were they all doing?

"We went looking for Emily and saw her in there." Abby explained.

"I just got here to see Matt." Brynn shrugged.

"Is she sleeping?" Cheryl suddenly asked, staring at Emily through the glass.

"Yeah, I think so, she was crying earlier."

"I'm not surprised…ten more minutes and I have to get her back to her room."

"She has a time limit?" Abby asked stunned.

"She can't be in that chair too long at once. The doctors say an hour at the most, and it's been about fifty minutes." Cheryl took a sip of her coffee and watched the quartet watching the couple.

"Well, what do we have going on over here?" Betty had returned, and was flabbergasted at the crowd.

"She has a few more minutes doesn't she?" Cheryl asked.

"Yeah, she does, but I was more referring to the little audience going on over here."

Cheryl shrugged and shook her head, saying, she wasn't part of that group. Abby had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed and find a chair, while the other three just looked puzzled.

"Don't you people think Emily there, might like some privacy?" They all looked at her blankly, still not following.

"Folks, that poor woman in there is heartbroken that the man in there hasn't woken up yet, don't you think she'd prefer to deal with that, without an audience?" They finally got it, and followed Abby's example, finding chairs. Betty rolled her eyes at them, and looked to Cheryl, who just shrugged again.

"I better go wake her up." Cheryl left Betty to give sharp looks to the voyeurs, and walked back into to Matt's room. She could hear Betty mumbling something about pulling the shades down next time.

"Emily." She gently shook her, and watched he friend blink her sore, puffy eyes awake.

"It's time to go back to your room." Emily nodded sleepily, and placed a kiss to Matt's forehead, resting her face momentarily against his, before settling into the chair, and letting Cheryl wheel her out.

She saw Betty waiting outside with her parents, Abby, and an older man that she didn't know. She nodded at her parents and Abby, too drained from all the crying to wonder how long they'd been there. Her mind froze when she saw the older man's eyes. She knew those eyes, she had stared into those eyes so many times. That had to be Matt's father. Cheryl had said he was here, but she'd never seen the man. She shook herself out of her daze as Cheryl wheeled her back into her room.

* * *

_It seems I've dug myself into a hole with this story, so consider this chapter extraspecially long to tide you all over until I figure out how to get myself out. (Step one, put the damn shovel down.) Thanks for reading, and reviews are always greatly appreciated!_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Monday: 1/22/07: 8:49 a.m.**_

Emily visited Matt for as long as they'd allow over the next six days, the last of which she as allowed to stay four hours before they took her back to her room. Today was the seventh day, and she probably wouldn't get the chance to visit him. She had insisted to Cheryl and Frank that she was going to this court date, even if they had to drag her in a wheelchair. The doctors consented, writing a note to the Judge requesting that he hear the case as soon and as quickly as he could. She'd been shot almost two weeks ago, and they wanted her in the hospital, in a bed, where they could monitor her. The less she moved the quicker she'd heal, and the less chance of her bleeding internally again.

Her mother brought her a suit to wear, and with a struggle she dressed herself, pride preventing her from accepting her mother's offer to help. Into the wheelchair she went, and after another brief struggle, she got from the wheel chair to the car with Frank's assistance. He was trying to be helpful, but was slightly awkward. She was his friend and coworker in a vulnerable spot, and he had to be careful when he offered his assistance, and where he put his hands. He also knew how hard the dependency must have been for her, and simply wasn't used to an Emily that was anything but independent.

Leaving her mother and father back at the hospital, Emily left with Frank and Cheryl to begin the process of being sued. She said very little along the way, choosing to stare out the window blankly, and let her thoughts drift to the man still unconscious in the room next to hers. Two weeks and he hadn't woken up; two weeks that grew longer and less hopeful as each day passed. The doctors spoke of hope while their eyes held doubt and that goddamned sympathy. They were contradicting themselves and didn't even realize it. They didn't want her to give up, but they already had, and she hated them for that.

Soon they would be informing Cheryl that she had to make a decision. Yes, Cheryl was listed as his emergency contact, and had been not long after they became partners. After the feud began with his brother, she was his closest friend, and he'd never gotten around to switching it to Emily. Cheryl had been surprised, she'd evidently forgotten Matt had put her down, and was less than thrilled at the prospect of making that decision. She'd immediately looked toward Emily, silently informing her that it was her decision to make. Emily was relieved to not be listed on that blank; she couldn't make that decision. If it came to it, she couldn't decide to kill him.

"Emily?" Cheryl called louder the second time.

"Yeah?" She turned and realized they were at the courthouse.

"Are you ready to do this?"

"We didn't do anything wrong."

"I know that. Who are you trying to convince?" Emily hadn't been defensive the entire time, and Cheryl didn't believe she was now.

"I have to go in there and pretend I actually believe that." She looked down at her hands, bearing shame she didn't deserve.

"Do you really think you and Matt did something bad in this?"

"We lost six out of eight hostages, all four HTs, half of our own people, and…and….and maybe Matt. I think it's pretty clear we screwed this one up bad." She bit her lip, guilt and fear weighing heavily over her.

"Maybe things could have gone better, but if you're going to blame yourself and Matt, you have to blame me too. I sent you down there without HRT, and I left you there with a bunch of cowboys who hadn't even handled a purse-snatching, and without some of the equipment you needed. If you had had what you needed, this wouldn't have gone down o badly."

"You don't know that."

"Sure I do. Frank is the best tactical commander in the States, rookie couldn't screw up with him around."

Emily remained silent, still unable to believe the carnage from nearly two weeks ago wasn't their fault.

"Besides, I sure as hell know that you two wouldn't have been acting unprofessionally. You enjoy the adrenaline and challenging each other too much to not completely focus yourselves on it."

"If that's all true, then why do I feel like I killed them all?"

"Because guilt is a bitch, but this isn't your cross to bear."

Emily was silent for another few moments, staring blanking into space once again, before suddenly coming back to herself and declaring, "alright, let's do this."

* * *

"Case number 225647 Cannon, Evans, and Gable versus Flannery, Lehman and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Judge presiding the Honorable Edward Marquez," the bailiff droned at the court in front of him, while the judge looked mildly bored at him.

"What have we got Tony?" Judge Marquez asked his bailiff.

"William Cannon, Patricia Evans, and Elizabeth Gable are suing the Federal Bureau of Investigation as a whole, and Agents Mathew Flannery and Emily Lehman for the wrongful deaths of Meredith Cannon, wife of William, Henry, Gale and Bobby Evans, son, daughter-in-law and grandson of Patricia Evans, and Michael John Gable son of Elizabeth Gable. The four adults and one minor four-year old child were shot to death Thursday, January 11th of 2007 during a hostage situation in which Agents Flannery and Lehman were the negotiators."

The judge looked first to Emily and the army of FBI lawyers beside her, and then to the plaintiffs, seemingly confused. "Well, I hate to sound callous, but these things happen. On what grounds are they laying these charges?"

"Your Honor, Malcolm McKeown, attorney for Bill Cannon, and lead attorney for the Plaintiff." A fifty-something man stood and introduced himself.

"Go ahead counselor."

"My client and his fellow plaintiffs will show that the sexual relationship that Agents Flannery and Lehman were engaged in caused them to neglect their professional responsibilities and caused the deaths of these five people."

"And the defense says?"

"Eric Strantum, lead counsel for the defense, your honor. My client, the FBI wasn't aware of the relationship between it's two negotiators, and though they don't dispute it now, or argue it's effect on the situation either way, they plead ignorance. They didn't know about the relationship and can't be held accountable." Strantum sat down after his summary, never looking at Emily.

"Agent Lehman, do you have counsel?"

"Um, no your Honor. I've been in the hospital, I haven't been able to, so I'm representing myself." Emily didn't get up, she remained in the wheelchair the doctors had confined her to.

"The FBI isn't providing you with one?"

"Not that I'm aware of sir."

"Well, Mr. Strantum, is the Bureau providing it's agents with a lawyer?"

"No your Honor, to my knowledge the Bureau is relying on them to find their own counsel."

"Of course they are. CYA right Mr. Strantum?"

"I'm sorry sir?" Strantum was completely lost to what he meant.

"Cover Your Ass, counselor. Something I think you'd be familiar with."

"Oh, right, yes sir."

"Alright, this case is very high profile, I want to get it over with as soon as possible. Do we know when Agent Flannery might be healthy enough to leave the hospital?" The majority of the court turned toward the defense table, who turned toward Emily.

"Your Honor, Matt has been unconscious for the last two weeks. He may never get out of that hospital."

"I'm very sorry Ms. Lehman. In the interests of expediting this, will you be able to sit through a trial in another week?" The judge was completely focused on her, his eyes were filled with sympathy, but never wavered in their strength.

"I think so, yes."

"Alright then, the trial will begin with jury selection next Tuesday, the 30th at 9:00 a.m." He smacked the gavel down, not giving the lawyers any chance to object.

The courtroom began clattering out the door as Frank and Cheryl picked their way through the throng of people toward Emily. She was sitting still in her wheelchair, staring at the plaintiff's table with an expression that spoke of sadness and guilt. The families of the hostages were nearly out the door when Emily pushed the little lever on the arm of her chair and followed them out the door.

"Excuse me!" She called, trying to catch up with her adversaries as they walked briskly out of the courthouse.

"My clients can't speak with you Miss Lehman." Mckeown scolded her and motioned his clients forward.

"I just need a minute. Please?" She implored them, stopping her chair as they stopped.

"This is really inappropriate Miss Lehman." He scolded her again.

"I just want to talk to them for a minute."

"Miss Lehman-"

"It's fine. Let her talk." Bill Cannon raised a hand, silencing the lawyer.

"Thank you." She told him, finally managing to slow her heartbeat, speeding after the chase and even still with just the thought of speaking to them.

He simply glared at her.

Emily swallowed, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Do you really think any of us care if you're sorry?"

"No, I know you don't. But you need to hear it. You need to hear that we did everything we could have to try and get everyone out of there safely. You need to hear that hostage takers are unpredictable, and that sometimes these things just go bad, that we can't always save the day. That the faces of your families, and those state troopers will haunt me forever, that I already see them in my dreams. That I can't get the image of a little boy covered in blood, laying dead beside his mother, out of my head. That I laid with them and watched them as they died and will never forget it. That I might lose the most important person in my life to the disaster in the barn."

The group looked at her, not happy, not sad, not angry, but seemingly unaffected by her words. They watched her a moment longer, before turning one by one and walking away. They didn't care what she had to say, they were in too much pain right then.

Cheryl and Frank had slowed their pursuit of Emily when they saw her talking to the hostages families, but moved forward now. Frank grabbed the handles of the chair and steered it toward the handicapped ramp, taking her toward the car.

Emily was silent the rest of the ride back to the hospital, and unsurprisingly asked to see Matt as soon as they got back. Somewhat reluctantly (she'd been in the chair three hours by then), they allowed her to sit with him for awhile.

She brushed some hair from his head, kissed his temple, and rested her head beside his, relaxing easily with the now familiar rhythm of the ventilator. She held his hand, still clutched in hers, and simply watched him sleep.

* * *

_Okay, next step after setting down the shovel, set the foundation to rebuild, or aka, skip time so I can move the story along. It had to be done. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey there," Cheryl greeted Emily, walking into Matt's room, knowing she'd find her there.

"Hi." She was sitting in her chair, holding Matt's hand, just as she had been when Cheryl left on Monday.

"How is he?" She was almost afraid to ask, afraid he'd be worse, afraid there was no change, afraid that Emily couldn't take much more of the waiting.

"The same. The doctors don't say much anymore. They don't check on him too much either." Her voice seemed distant, as if she'd floated away from this place, and left nothing but an empty shell with a voice box.

"Everyone in LA is pulling for him. I guess you already got the cards an flowers." She looked around and noticed the flora decorating the room, and cards among them.

"Yeah, nurses had to use a cart just for our rooms. How is LA?" Cheryl had spent the previous day in her CNU, checking that everything was still as it should be.

"Unchanged in any way, shape or form. Temple and Binder have been busy, not that they mind, they get to ignore their paperwork." With only one set of negotiators in the office, new cases took precedence over finishing paperwork.

"Washington still making noise?"

"Well, now that the press quieted a bit down here, Washington has quieted a bit. You know, it isn't a problem unless people actually know about it." When Emily made no comment, Cheryl spoke again, "Lia's been asking about you, she'll probably be down Friday."

"I'll look forward to it."

"How have you been?"

Emily didn't make a move to answer for several silent minutes, and then her words were a soft question. "Do you know what we talked about before this happened?"

"No, what's that?" She didn't need to ask who we was, or what this was, Emily's unwavering gaze on Matt made that pretty clear.

"Kids, we talked about having kids."

Cheryl was taken aback, they hadn't even really been dating that long, and they were talking about kids already? They weren't even married.

"Yeah, Donovan was asking Matt why he didn't have kids yet, and said if he found the right woman he should marry her and get working on that."

"And Matt said he found the right woman."

Emily cocked her head to the side, surprised Cheryl didn't even question her assumption.

"I know Matt, I can tell when he's serious about someone."

That seemed to be good enough for Emily, "Yeah, he did, and Donovan gave this wonderfully graphic description of childbirth…I can only imagine our faces at that moment." She laughed lightly at that.

"Oh yeah, they were that good?"

"We both had the same image in our heads when he said that, me having a baby. If they'd been there to see us, Frank and Duff would have pissed themselves laughing."

"That would be a sight, two open-mouthed negotiators, and two HRT agents rolling on the floor laughing."

"Yeah, and Lia squealing back in the IA room." She gave a small grin, enjoying the thought.

"So, how did you two manage to get past that?"

"We agreed to talk about it back in LA and focus on the negotiation. Didn't really work though, so we just said what was in our heads. Matt said he meant everything, but that we could take it slow for me." She closed her eyes at this point, guilt evident in her face.

"And what did you say?" Cheryl could sense that this was the part that was bothering her.

"I told him I wasn't ready for any of it, but I did care about him." She hung her head again, small pearls of tears forming in her eyes.

"It's okay Emily, Matt will give you all the time you need."

Her head flew up from looking at her feet. "I wish I hadn't told him that."

"Why?"

"I don't just care about him, I love him. And I'd say to hell with needing time if he'd just open his eyes. I'd marry him today and be pregnant by next week, if he'd just open his damned eyes." Emily barely got the sentence out, dissolving in tears after the last word.

Cheryl pulled her chair closer, and embraced her friend, allowing her to cry on her shoulder. She was right, Emily couldn't cope with much more of this waiting, not while the rest of her world was crashing down around her.

Emily must have sat there crying for over twenty minutes, when a young man entered, looking around. He cleared his throat and looked painfully uncomfortable at the sight of the women in front of him.

"Can I help you?" Cheryl asked unkindly.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Mathew Flannery?" He told them, reading the paper in his hand.

"You're looking at him. Who are you?"

"I'm a courier for-"

"Oh let me guess," Emily cut him off, speaking in a nasty tone, "Sanders, Rush, and Brenner?"

"Yes ma'am." He noticed her wheelchair for the first time, "are you Emily Lehman?"

"Yes, I am. What do those attorneys want now?"

"I'm just to drop these off for you and Mr. Flannery." He handed her the form to sign.

She signed for both of them, taking the folded documents in his hands, and waiting until he left to open one.

"Oh," she blurted out, reading through the papers.

"Oh what? What's it about?" Cheryl asked nervously.

"Patricia Evans is dropping out of the suit," She said, mouth stuck open in shock. The woman who'd lost her son, daughter-in-law, and grandson had dropped out of suing them. That meant that they were now only being sued for two deaths.

"Does it say why?"

"No, it just says that she dropped out, but the other parties still plan on going through with the suit." She handed Cheryl the paper, desperately needing a minute to make herself believe what she read.

Cheryl didn't have time to comment, as the woman in question made an appearance at the doorway to Matt's room.

"Mrs. Evans, what can I do for you?" Emily asked her quickly, startled by her sudden appearance.

"I see you got the notice from the lawyers."

"Yes, I did, thank you."

"Don't thank me, it was the right thing to do."

"Thank you for seeing that then."

"Can I just ask you one thing?"

"Of course, go ahead." Emily would eagerly accommodate the women's request after what she did.

"You did everything in your power to get my family out of there alive?"

"Yes, we did. I would give anything for it to have gone down differently, but there is no way we could have predicted the sudden change in the hostages takers." The part of her speaking the words knew them to be true, but another part of Emily didn't really believe what she was saying.

"Thank you…" Mrs. Evans trailed off, lost in thought, her gaze eventually landing on Matt. "Is he going to make it?"

Emily was taken aback by the bluntness of the question. "I, I don't know. The doctors don't know."

"I'll pray for him," she told them, before leaving as abruptly as she'd come in.

Emily and Cheryl were left blinking in surprise until seconds later Abby came in, looking behind her at the older woman passing her.

"Who was that woman?" She was pretty sure Matt's father said his wife was dead.

"One of the people suing us. Or at least she was," Emily told her sister.

"She dropped the suit?"

"Yeah, she said it was the right thing to do." She still wasn't sure what to make of it.

"At least one of those people has sense," Abby said bitterly.

"They're angry Abby. They just want someone to blame for their family members' deaths."

"Yeah well, those people are already dead."

"Which is why they want to come after us."

"It's still not right Em. You've suffered enough." She glanced at Matt, and back to her sister, wordlessly expressing how she suffered.

"He's not dead yet," Emily told her sister unkindly, giving Matt's hand a squeeze, as if to somehow tell him she knew he'd wake up.

"Sweetie, you know that's not what I meant. Whether he dies or not, this is still hurting you, badly." She looked to Cheryl to confirm her point. Cheryl nodded at them, agreeing, though she'd been silent since Mrs. Evans stopped by.

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried," Emily shook her head tiredly.

"Maybe it would be a good idea to get you out of this hospital for a little while." Emily had barely left since she got there, and surprising them all, hadn't whined to leave. She didn't want to get better while Matt was still the same; her recovering made his lack of one all the more real.

"I don't want to go to far incase he wakes up," she answered, before her eyes widened in alarm and she gasped.

"What wrong?" Cheryl demanded coming closer, Abby not far behind.

"He-he just squeezed my hand," she stuttered, afraid to hope. She leapt from her chair, studying Matt, as Cheryl hit the call button to bring the nurse in.

"You really felt him squeeze your hand?" Abby asked in disbelief

"Yes, yes, I felt his grip tighten on my hand." She squeezed his hand back, hoping he'd repeat his earlier gesture.

"What can I do for you ladies?" Betty smiled at the familiar group.

"He moved Betty, he squeezed my hand," Emily told her almost frantically.

"Really? I'll be right back with the doctor." She rushed out to retrieve Matt's doctor, returning only minutes later.

"So Matt here moved?" Dr. Miguel Bernhardt asked.

"Yes, he squeezed my hand a few minutes ago, after I squeezed his," Emily explained for the umpteenth time.

"Alright, if you ladies step back, I'll just have a look. His left hand?" Emily nodded. Moving back, one hand bracing herself on her chair. Abby wrapped an arm around her sister, supporting her emotionally and physically. Cheryl watched with a nervous hand over her mouth.

Dr. Bernhardt performed a short series of diagnostic checks, and studied the printout from Matt's EKG machine. His face betrayed very little, falling into the impenetrable mask all doctors learn to wear. He finally finished and turned to them.

"Emily, you're sure you felt him touch you?" He was beyond the point of using formality with her; Emily Lehman was in his patient's room constantly, he'd become very familiar with her.

"Yes I am. You don't believe me?" The hand that wasn't gripping the arm of her chair was gripping her sister's arm, and began to grip harder as she got increasingly nervous.

"No it isn't that. I just wanted to be sure."

"Okay, so what does it mean?"

"At this time, it means nothing. I've examined him and everything is the same, and his EKG shows no added activity."

"But, he held my hand, it has to mean something," she insisted in disbelief.

"Sometimes it happens. It could mean something Emily, but it's also likely that it's nothing. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't want you to get your hopes up for nothing."

She nodded at him, her eyes blank, already lost in her reeling mind. He offered them a sad look, before leaving to tend to his next patient, a happy case than this one.

The tears started dripping down her face, before she had the chance to stop them. Abby wrapped her other arm around her, her gut aching for her sister. Emily held onto her sister, the disappointment, fear, worry, pain, and guilt weighing too hard for her to manage it alone any longer.

* * *

_Sorry this has taken so long to get up, work and other stories are keeping me busy. I think I'm aiming for two or three chapters with this one, hopefully to be done by August. Thank you for sticking with the story, reading, and reviewing!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Friday: 1/26/07: 10:23 a.m.**

Emily was allowed out of her wheelchair the past two days, instead using the assistance of a walker to ease her body back into moving. She was still healing from surgery, and her stitches could still potentially become torn, so they gave her the four-legged, metal device. She felt about ninety, trying to move down the courtroom corridor using tiny little steps that poor Cheryl was struggling to mimic.

She'd gotten a call from the Bureau attorney that Judge Marquez wanted to see the plaintiffs and defendants in chambers with their counsel. Her doctor hadn't been thrilled about letting her walk so long with the walker, but had eventually consented, warning her to take it easy. Cheryl promised that they'd take it one step at a time, and rest whenever Emily needed it.

Now they were back in the imposing courthouse, on their way to meet the judge. God only knew what he had planned, but Emily felt at this point, it couldn't possibly be good. Luck hadn't been with her for quite some time, except of course for Mrs. Evans. That was completely out of the blue, but a relief nonetheless. They ambled down the hallway, Emily moving in such a way every so often to cause her to suck in a breath and let a wave a pain pass. She wasn't too sore anymore, but moving just the right way could be agony.

"Here's Ms. Lehman. Are we all here then?" Judge Marquez surveyed the dozen or more people gathered in his not very large chamber room. His once dark grey hair had lightened as he progressed into his seventies, and his movements were slower than Emily's. But, he was still sharp as a tack, and his light blue eyes could read through anyone.

"Plaintiffs are all here, your honor." Malcolm McKeown answered for his small group.

"Defendants are also all present, your honor." Eric Strantum answered for all, though he basically ignored Emily.

"Alright then, let's get started. Uh, Agent Carrera is it?" He suddenly seemed to remember Cheryl's presence.

"Yes sir."

"The Bureau is already represented, and you aren't named as a defendant, so I'll have to ask you to leave."

"May I stand in for Agent Flannery sir?" She wanted to see what was going on in here, and didn't want to leave Emily alone- she already looked exhausted.

"I think that's an excellent idea," he smiled approvingly.

"So, why are we all here your honor?" McKeown didn't like surprise invitations from judges, and wasn't hiding that fact.

"To see if it's really worth moving forward with this suit." He smiled, waiting for the plaintiff's counsel to start protesting indignantly.

"But, you're honor, my clients have a right to bring suit against anyone they feel did them wrong."

"Yes, they do, but I want to make sure this isn't frivolous. As I understand it, Mrs. Evans already dropped out?"

"Yes, that's true. But, Mr. Cannon and Ms. Gable are prepared and eager to move forward." He added quickly.

"Relax Mr. McKeown. We're only discussing dismissal, nothing's set in stone remember?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, what proof have the plaintiffs, that Agent Flannery and Agent Lehman were sweating the sheets?" His wit and humor wouldn't dim until he died.

"As we understand it your honor, it was fairly common knowledge in LA. We have several of their coworkers that will attest to it, and a recording during a negotiation in which Agent Flannery reveals the nature of their relationship."

"Really? That's different. I'll give you that counselor, but here's the tougher question. Where's your proof that this relationship interfered with their negotiation?"

Strantum interjected, practically jumping up and down, "the FBI hasn't even finished it's own investigation, so it's unlikely Mr. McKeown has any proof to offer."

"I resent that. We're still gathering evidence, but it seems pretty clear judging by how things turned out that these to agents -pardon my language- fucked up, your honor."

"Counselor, where did you go to law school? You can't just say A is true because of B. It has to be that A is true because C caused B. You need to give me C, counselor. I'm not going to condemn Agent Lehman and the still comatose Agent Flannery because some bad people shot some good people."

"With all do respect your honor, it isn't your decision. They have a right to bring this suit."

"So you've said Mr. McKeown, but I do have the right to dismiss it as frivolous." He paused, looking around for the plaintiffs, buried behind their laywers. "Mr. Cannon, Ms. Gable, please approach."

They did as asked, Cannon spoke for both, "Yes, your honor?"

"Are you aware that Agent Flannery is still unconscious, breathing only because of a respirator?"

"Yes your honor." They both answered.

"And, are you aware that Agent Flannery may never wake up?"

"Yes your honor."

"And are you aware that even if Agent Flannery wakes up, he might find himself the latest addition to the produce aisle?"

"Now we are your honor."

"Alright, then do you really want to sue a dead man or a vegetable?" Both felt the size of ants at his questioning, and Emily and Cheryl were struggling to ignore the references to Matt as dead or vegetative.

"No, I suppose not your honor."

"So then you want to drop the suit against Agent Flannery?"

The two were now confused, and just settled for nodding.

"Great, now we can amend the suit further."

"Your honor, I really need a moment with my clients."

"Take three- as in days counselor. This is how this is going to work. Mr. Strantum, you are going to work with your clients to produce the transcripts from this negotiation, that report on the investigation, and background on Agents Flannery and Lehman. Agent Lehman, you are going to stay here with me so we can have a conversation. I want to take your statement in chambers to determine if the case has any merit to it. Mr. McKeown, you are going to talk to your clients about dropping the suit against Agent Flannery, and get me anything you have that would give your client's case value. All of you will meet me back in at 8:30 a.m. on Monday to hear my decision on this. We all clear?"

"Your honor, I'd like to be present while you question Agent Lehman."

"Mr. McKeown I will have a stenographer write everything down, and you'll get a copy along with the transcripts and my ruling. Relax a little, would you?"

"I'm not entirely comfortable with this Your Honor. It's practically ex parte communications!"

"Mr. McKeown, you're an ambulance chaser, you're never comfortable. But, this communication is going to be written down, so shut it. No objections, I hope, Mr. Strantum?" He turned to the defense.

"None Your Honor."

"Good, out of my chambers now, except Agent Lehman." He shooed them out, Emily watching from where she stood, leaning on the walker. People filed out all around her, and Cheryl was the last to leave, offering her an encouraging look, before walking out.

"Well, then. Why don't you have a seat, you're looking a bit peaky my dear." He gestured to the chair beside his desk, as he made himself comfortable in the one behind the desk.

Emily did as she was told, easing herself from the walker to the chair, careful not to move in certain directions. She was nervous, horribly so. She'd found herself in courtrooms, judges chambers, witness holding rooms, and the like dozens of times, and was the very picture of composure. She looked up suddenly as a stenographer hurried in, setting up her equipment in record speed, her fingers seeming to freeze in mid air over the keyboard, ready to type.

"Let's start then." The judge smiled at her, and began the formalities to open the proceedings.

* * *

"Hey, how'd it go?" Cheryl got up from the bench as soon as she saw Emily start to amble out of the judge's chambers. 

"I can't tell. He's harder to read than Matt." She was too exhausted to even think at that point.

"Matt has always been good at hiding what he's thinking." Cheryl agreed, making sure to use present tense.

"Try dating him, it's infuriating at times."

Cheryl laughed as they walked out, enjoying the brief humor that seemed to return to her friend.

"Have you heard from Washington lately?" She knew her boss must have, but also knew that Cheryl wouldn't mention it without prodding.

"Of course, everyday almost. That report from those negotiators is coming along slower than they'd like, but otherwise, they don't say much to me, just kind of glare through the phone line." It was true, she didn't need to see the higher-ups to know they were still pissed.

"I'm sorry Cheryl."

"Don't worry about it. I've told you before, I can take the heat."

"When this is all over, I'm going to buy you a puppy." Emily told her, staring out the car windshield as Cheryl guided the car through LA.

"What? Why would you get me a puppy?" Cheryl wondered at her odd choice of thank you gift.

"Because it's cute, and snuggly- and free. I'm being sued, remember?" She turned to Cheryl, wearing a self-deprecating grin.

"I can appreciate that. But, one thing?"

"Yeah?"

"If this suit is dropped, will you make your thank you gift something that drools less?" She wasn't afraid of dogs, as Matt was, but she'd live without one just fine.

"Sure," Emily smiled, clearly amused.

* * *

_**Sunday: 1/28/07: 3:27 p.m.**_

"Emily, great you're back. I wanted to discuss something with you and Mr. Flannery." Matt's doctor greeted her with a warm smile, as she ambled toward Matt's room, after spending most of the day with Lia, who was still with her.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen to Matt?" Emily jumped to alert.

"No, there has been no change. If you'll come with me, Mr. Flannery is in with him now." He gestured her into the room.

Emily hadn't met Brynn Flannery yet, as they'd always managed to miss each other. The thought of meeting him now was making her heart pound; she hadn't been this nervous meeting a boyfriend's parents since Nate Myers, her first boyfriend in college. That had been the first time she'd met any boyfriend's parents, and she hadn't made it a regular practice.

"Mr. Flannery, I just located Emily." The doctors tells Brynn as he enters, Emily close behind.

"It's good to finally meet you Emily. I had hoped to wait until Matt woke up, I think he'd want it that way, but this will have to do."

"It's nice to meet you also, Mr. Flannery." She took the hand he offered, wondering if she was being too formal. She felt like a teenager going to the parents house for dinner for the first time.

"You can call me Brynn." He gave her a warm smile.

She offered a smile back, as they both turned toward the doctor; they'd get to know each other better later.

"I hadn't realized you hadn't met, and I'm sorry it happened under these circumstances. But, there's something about Matt's care that we need to start discussing."

"What's that?" Brynn was blunt, the Irish didn't beat around the bush on anything, and they weren't subtle either.

"Matt, as I understand it, has no living will."

"No, he didn't." Brynn answered firmly, not liking where this was going.

Emily could start to feel her legs begin shake, she also could tell where this was going.

"Every moment that Matt doesn't come to makes it less likely that it will ever happen. It's possible that he will never wake up, so I need to know how long you want to keep him on the respirator. Though Mr. Flannery is listed as next of kin, considering your relationship, I decided to include Emily in this conversation. I hope I wasn't too presumptuous?" He looked to Brynn.

"No, not at all. She has as much right to make that decision as I do."

"Okay, then you should both know that it's unlikely that he will survive without that respirator, but that he can live for a fairly long time on it. There are no numbers I can give you to illustrate his chances of waking up at this point; I only wish it were that easy. It's just that he may, or he may not. I assume you both can figure out what Matt would like to do under these circumstances." He nodded, waited a moment for questions, and when none came walked briskly out, cursing this part of his job.

If Emily hadn't been leaning on the walker, her legs surely would have given out. As it was, she eased her shaking body to sit on the bed with Matt, her head spinning.

Brynn used two fingers and lifted her chin up to see her eyes, "do I need to get a doctor for you?"

"No, I'm fine." She picked up Matt's hand as she become accustomed to doing, her stomach churning at the thought of shutting off the respirator.

"Emily, I'll be honest, the Matt I knew wouldn't want to live like this for too long. But, I haven't seen my son in over a year, and only talked to him for one or two short conversations otherwise. I barely know my son, so I have to ask you. What would he want?"

Emily just sat next to Matt, staring at Flannery senior in a stupor. Did he really just ask her to make the decision on whether his son lives or dies? Could she really do that? Could she make a decision that might cost Matt his life, or keep him as this unconscious figure for years to come? Her mind was spinning like cars around a Nascar track, and her mouth went dry as paper, as she continued to just stare at him.

* * *

_Had a six hour fiasco with my computer last night, so this update got postponed slightly. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Sunday: 1/28/07: 3:27 p.m.**

Lia had postponed her visit a bit, and arrived Saturday night, visiting Emily and Matt early Sunday. Emily was still in shock over the idea of making a life or death decision for Matt; shortly after Brynn left, she'd begged Cheryl to help her. She couldn't do that, couldn't make that kind of decision. That hadn't even been dating that long, she hadn't known him for even two years. Cheryl had calmed her down, explaining that in that short time, they'd gotten closer than many of the married couples she knew. But, it was when she explained that nothing mattered except the fact that Matt trusted her, that he'd want her to be the one to tell everyone what he wanted, that Emily really calmed down. She still didn't want to do it, still didn't know if she could, but Cheryl was right, Matt trusted her.

Now, she ambled back into the hospital with Lia, eager to prove to the doctors that she'd mastered the walker, and would be fine with a cane, or hell, even better without. They'd discussed her dilemma that morning, for a long time, and they'd discussed the case, and everything that went along with it. Around 11:30, Lia cut her off, told her to focus on something else for a the afternoon, insisted that they were going to have fun. Emily had held up her walker as if to say, how? But, Lia just rolled her eyes, and dragged her friend off for a very literal walk in a park.

It had been exactly what Emily needed, some time away from the hospital, the courtrooms, the reminders of death, the guilt, and the decision she had to make. Some fresh air, some time to just breathe; it was wonderful for her. Of course, as soon as she laid eyes on Matt again, she felt horribly guilty for having a good time while he was still suffering.

"I can't do it, Lia," she suddenly blurted, as they stood just inside the room watching him.

"Make a decision?"

"No. I know what he wants, but I can't tell them to do it. I can't be the one to kill him." Her gaze never wavered from the still figure on the bed.

"Emily, you won't be killing him, you'll be doing what he wants. Donovan and those HTs, they put the bullets in him, not you."

"Yeah, but I'm the one saying it's not worth it to wait."

"No, you said yourself that's what Matt would do. He's saying it's not."

Emily though, still didn't look convinced.

"Oh good, you're here." Cheryl power-walked into Matt's room, something clearly on her mind.

"What's going on?" Emily was instantly on alert, not trusting any news.

"Those negotiators just turned in their investigation. They said, and I quote, 'under the circumstances Agents Flannery and Lehman had every reason to believe they were making adequate progress with the HTs. The sudden change in the HTs was unpredictable to even the most seasoned negotiator, and Agents Flannery and Lehman acted in accordance with FBI protocol. We find no fault with the actions of Special Agent Mathew Flannery and Special Agent Emily Lehman.'" Cheryl read from the paper in her hand.

Both women's eyes widened, and Emily snatched the paper from her boss's hand, reading through it in disbelief.

"They actually cleared them?" Lia also couldn't seem to make herself believe it.

"Of everything. Of course the Bureau has to officially do it, but from what I understand a copy of this report was leaked to the press already, so they don't have a choice," She grinned conspiratorially.

"You?" Emily asked amused.

"Of Course not. I send HRT on all the important missions."

* * *

**Monday: 1/29/07: 8:30 a.m.**

"So I've read through the Bureau's report on the incident, questioned Agent Lehman, and looked at the statement you gave me Mr. McKeown. And honestly, I can find no reason to allow this suit to continue."

"Your honor!" McKeown was already jumping up and down, objecting to the ruling.

"No need to yell, Mr. McKeown. I can hear your objections just fine when you speak in a normal tone."

"Yes, your honor, but the plaintiffs are still gathering their evidence. We have a right to proceed with trial today."

"You should have had your evidence today. Tell me, do you have anything to offer besides the statement of this State Trooper?"

"We have several people who will attest to the nature of their relationship, and their typical demeanor negotiating."

"Mr. McKeown I'm going to ask you this once, and I'd like a yes or no answer. Have any of those witness ever known the defendants to: touch each other inappropriately, engage in tonsil hockey, or sneak away to enjoy a quickie during any of these negotiations?"

Emily turned several shades of red.

"No, your honor, but-"

"No is sufficient Mr. McKeown. I hereby dismiss this case on the grounds of lack of evidence, and that it's obviously frivolous. Out of my chambers please." He ushered them out, most looking pretty shell-shocked.

Emily, now walking on her own, made her way over to the nearest bench, and flopped down, her legs unable to hold her any longer. She rested her elbows on her legs, and let her head fall into her hands. Oh god, she couldn't believe it was over, couldn't believe she didn't have to worry about losing everything she owned anymore. She just sat there for several minutes, breathing slowly in and out, trying to convince herself it was all true.

"Hey, it's okay Emily. It's over. It's really over." Cheryl seemed be being having the same problem, as she started at her own words, and abruptly plopped down next to Emily. Holy shit, it was really over.

* * *

Matt slowly drifted into consciousness, his mind confused and disoriented, struggling to break out of it's self-made prison. As his senses began to come back to him, he was aware of sounds first; a sharp intake of breath, feet shifting on the floor, a button being pressed, and a familiar voice saying his name.

He had only begun to see fuzzy light when the sensation of pain was rapidly returned to him, informing him that the morphine they were giving him wasn't enough. The tube in his throat was uncomfortable, and made him want to gag. As the blurred light became his father's worried face, he began to struggle against tube, desperately trying to rid his tender throat of the intrusive device.

"Matt, Mathew, relax, the doctors will be in soon to get it out," his father tried to soothe him.

His eyes darted around, trying to see the room he was in. White, sterile, monitors above his head, window to his left, strange man's face leaning close to him.

"Matt, I'm Dr. Kappoel. I need you to relax, to stop struggling against the tube, and then we can get it out."

Even if he couldn't feel it, the rapid beeping next to him betrayed his pounding heart. He forced himself to stop struggling as the doctor instructed, trying desperately to control his gag reflex.

"Alright, when I tell you to, I need you to exhale as hard as you can, so I can pull the tube out. Ready?"

Matt tried to nod, but the tube made it difficult, so he settled for blinking his eyes.

"Okay, one…two…three…blow out."

Matt pushed the air from his lungs as hard as he could, as the doctor yanked the tube out. He began to cough and gag, his tender throat stinging with every ragged breath.

"It's alright Matt, just breathe," the doctor coached him.

He forced his body into an upright position, shaking his head at the hand that tried to apply pressure to his shoulder. The hand moved to his back supporting him, his father's voice began soothing him once again, reminding him vaguely of recovering from his childhood nightmares.

"Wh-what…" he tried to speak, but began gagging again. He was in a hospital, and the pain in his shoulder and chest told him he'd been hurt pretty bad, but his mind was still horribly confused.

"Don't talk a minute, the nurse went to get ice chips. Do you remember what put you here?" Dr. Kappoel took his pulse and studied him as only a scientist could.

Matt shook his head, nothing was coming to him. He looked helplessly to his father, wondering at the older man's presence. The two weren't exactly close, and didn't talk very often. He would have expected Cheryl or Emily… That did it, he was suddenly struck with a flood of memories.

He remembered Emily's expression of nausea at the dead mouse on his floor, kissing her deeply, driving through farm country searching for a specific barn marker. Teasing each other, negotiating with the HT, Emily's widened eyes as the HT described childbirth, their awkward conversation. Then his memories changed and became filled with blood, smoke, screams, the sparks and pops of guns firing. Emily on the ground, blood streaming from her body, and her face twisted in serene agony.

"E-" he tried to speak again, but his voice was lost in another gagging fit.

"Easy, easy, here, swallow some ice chips before you try to talk again," the doctor instructed, handing him a small paper cup of ice chips.

He shoveled them, not really caring if they soothed his throat or not, just needing a enough to enable him to say one word.

"Easy, go slow Matt."

He swallowed a few more ice chips, allowing them to coat his throat, before opening his mouth to speak again.

"Emily," he finally breathed desperately.

He could see small smiles suddenly appear on both his father's and doctor's faces.

"She's alright Matt. She's in court now, should be back soon." Brynn Flannery assured him.

"Court?" he wheezed out.

"Yeah, don't worry about it now." Brynn patted his hand gently.

"He's right, you need to rest now, you can talk to her when she gets back."

"Just sl-slep-pt."

"Yeah, well you need to rest your voice too, give it a chance to get stronger."

Matt nodded reluctantly, already feeling like he climbed Everest after only being awake a short time. It was going take his body quite a bit of time to recuperate.

* * *

Emily and Cheryl walked back into the hospital in a daze, still trying to adjust to the significantly lighter weight that rested on their shoulders. They sat on that bench for almost twenty minutes before Emily was finally stable enough to walk out, her legs still shaking slightly beneath her. She had just dodged one hell of a bullet.

"Emily!" Abby called, excitedly. She had arrived only twenty minutes ago, eager to visit her sister, and found a surprise.

"Hey Abby." Emily hugged her sister, glad for a minute to lean on someone, tired after walking around, and still feeling like she was hit by a bus from the judge's decision.

"Oh, sweetie, great news!" Abby was lit up like she just guzzled a gallon of espresso.

"You heard?" Now Emily was confused. Did Cheryl call them? She didn't remember seeing her use the phone.

"What?"

"That they dropped the suit against us. Wait, what are you talking about?"

"That's wonderful, but I have better news. Matt was awake about forty-five minutes ago." She bit her lip, watching for her sister's reaction.

Emily's mouth opened, but her mind couldn't fathom any words, as her already shaky legs gave out beneath her, nearly sending her to the floor. Cheryl and Abby both reached an arm around her, barely in time to keep her knees from hitting the floor. Leaning heavily on her friend and sister, Emily made her way to a chair, still staring open-mouthed at nothing.

"Em, sweetie, are you alright?" Abby brushed a hair from her sister's face, watching her nervously.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before she was finally able to form words. "He's really awake?"

"Yeah, Brynn was with him."

Emily sighed into her hands, feeling the tears pricking her eyes only seconds before the flood started. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing into them, unable to handle the emotional roller coaster she'd been riding for two and a half weeks. Abby pulled Emily to her shoulder, and sat rocking back and forth with her little sister.

Cheryl gave her hand a small squeeze, before getting up to call LA and give them the good news. She drew in a shaky breath as she approached the phone, shaking her hand to relive the small tremors that became visible when she went to pick up the phone. With only a little difficulty her twitchy fingers found the right keys, and she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall while it rang.

"Rogers."

"Hey Frank," she greeted tiredly.

"Cheryl, what's wrong? What happened?" Frank's worried voice came back at her.

"Good news, Frank. Only good news."

"Oh yeah? Care to share?"

"Matt was awake for a little while earlier. Emily and I were at court, the judge dismissed the case, but his father was with him." She didn't seem to notice the jumble that came out of her mouth.

"Jesus, that old saying is right. When it rains it pours…so, he's going to be alright?"

"I haven't talked to the doctor yet, but going by Emily's sister, I'd say we're out of the woods." They were a family, the six of them; if one of them was 'in the woods,' they all were.

"Thank god for that. How's Emily?"

"Sobbing on her sister's shoulder."

"Probably better for her to get it out. It's been a rough couple weeks for her."

"That's the understatement of the year."

"Probably. So, I'll round up Lia and Duff, and we'll be in Woodbridge tomorrow mid-morning."

"Sounds good."

"You sound pretty beat Cheryl, go to your hotel room and crash. If Flannery wakes up tonight, nobody will get near him besides Lehman anyway." Frank went back to his less serious tone, the one he was more comfortable with.

"True. Alright, I'm going, see you tomorrow."

"Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." He joked.

"Oh, you're bringing me coffee then?" She shot back.

"Not a bad idea, we'll meet you for breakfast. What's your room number?"

"219. Do me a favor Frank, and call before you start pounding on the door."

"And miss the fun of seeing that uber-pissed expression we all know and love?" Frank was grining on the other end of the phone.

"Remember I brought my gun," she warned

"Ouch. I don't think Lia would let me anyway."

"Oh poor Lia, she has to ride down with you two clowns."

"I wouldn't worry, if she gets annoyed, she can just stick her tongue down Duff's throat."

"That was really a visual I needed," she commented shaking her head.

"You can go to sleep tonight with that in your head."

"Thanks for that. Alright, see you tomorrow."

"Yep." The both clicked off, and Cheryl once again sighed in exhaustion.

* * *

Four hours later Emily was sitting in the chair by Matt's bed, dozing off now and again, as she had been the last few hours. It was almost strange now, to see him without the tube down his throat, though an amazing relief. One hand tangled in his hair, the other propping her head up, Emily's eyes closed again, as she drifted off to dreamland.

Seconds after her eyes closed, Matt's began to blink open again. He looked around once again, wondering how long he'd slept, and what seemed to be in his hair, until he saw her, asleep next to him. He reached up and ran his fingers lightly against her forearm, his mind easing as he just watched her. When he'd finally remembered everything after waking up, he'd been so sure that she was dead. He'd seen her eyes close, seconds before his own world went black, agonizing seconds. But she was alive, and seemed to be just fine, in fact he couldn't see any bandages anywhere.

Emily stirred at the sensation of her skin tingling from gentle contact with another's. Her subconscious, realizing what it meant before she did, dragged her out of her peaceful sleep. Light found it's way to her eyes again, and a tired smile graced her face at the sight in front of her. Matt was really awake, and really on his way to recovery. She wouldn't have to make that awful decision, that god knows, she never could.

"Hey." He smiled back.

She picked up the hand that had been stroking her forearm with both of her own, and brought it to her lips for a kiss, before holding it against her face. She could feel her breathing hitch with the threat of tears, and didn't trust her voice to speak.

"It's alright," he coughed, "both alive." He hoarsely tried to reassure her, his thumb gently rubbing her temple.

"Matt I was so sure we'd be burying you by the end of the week." She finally admitted what had been running through her mind the past couple days.

"Not anymore."

"So much has happened, Matt. So many people are dead."

He nodded, "I know." He'd managed to pry a little information from his father before going back to sleep.

"How do we get past this?" She wondered.

"Don't know. We'll figure it out." His voice was beginning to go again, as he gestured her toward the bed, patting the space beside him.

"You're still injured, I'll hurt you."

He shook his head, "no leaning."

She looked at him slightly skeptically, and keeping an eye on him, she climbed on beside him. He turned his body a bit so that he was fully on his side, and spooned around her, their bodies becoming loosely connected. Both were asleep only a few moments later.

Of course, Betty picked that moment to check on them in her regular rounds rotation. She picked Matt's clipboard up from outside the room, and checked the section for his IV medications. He wouldn't need anything till morning; they were changed earlier. Still she went inside the room, hoping to get a look at him without the tube down his throat. There was her patient, sleeping peacefully, spooned around her other patient, who was not in her room, but sleeping just as peacefully.

She went to wake the couple, and remind them that the hospital had protocol, but stopped herself. Who were they really hurting? She simply sighed at the site, before turning off his overhead light, and allowing a smaller wall light to serve as a nightlight. No, she wouldn't bother them tonight; it wouldn't be fair to pry Emily away on the day Matt came back to her. If any of the doctors objected in the morning, she'd tell them that they could inform the couple of the rules themselves. She gave Emily's chart a once over, before continuing on her rounds, leaving them to sleep.

* * *

_I think there will only be one more chapter to this one before it's finished. Hopefully, before the end of next week, though with the release of the new Harry Potter, I can't make any promises. Thanks reading and reviewing!_


	14. Chapter 14

**Thursday: 2/1/07: 11:45 a.m.**

"Hello, Emily, Matt," Betty greeted cheerfully, stepping into Matt's room, where Emily continued to take residence.

"Hi Betty, how are you?" Emily smiled at the nurse who'd been so nice to them.

"I'm just fine, and it seems that so are you. The doctor just filled out these discharge papers, said your exam this morning was very good."

"That's great news," Matt smiled, his voice nearly at it's full strength after days of talking as little as possible.

"Yeah, I can't believe it's already February. We left LA in early January." It was almost unimaginable to think that they'd been gone that long.

"Amazing thing time is, sometimes is goes so slow you feel like your standing still, and other times it goes so fast, it feels like you've missed it completely." Betty commented, busy scribbling something on Matt's chart, before grabbing a small bag and resetting the IV.

"Hey Betty, do you have paperwork to transfer me to another hospital?" Matt asked her.

"Yep, I'll grab it right now. Don't want to be away from her for a second, do you?" She winked at him, and scurried out.

"So, there was something I wanted to talk to you about," Matt began nervously. He'd decided on this before they were shot, but with the revolving door of people visiting, he hadn't gotten a chance until now.

"Oh? What's that?" She looked at him curiously, he sounded nervous and that made her nervous.

"Hey." Cheryl suddenly greeted from the doorway.

"Hey, we've got good news, the doctors decided to release Emily." Matt was more thrilled about that than anybody, it meant that she was really alright, a distinct relief for him.

"That's great. Are you coming back to LA?"

"Yeah, Betty's actually getting us the paperwork to transfer Matt."

"More good news," Cheryl smiled, wondering how to breach the topic she'd come to discuss.

"How's LA?" Matt sensed that she needed to talk about something.

"I had a conversation with my bosses yesterday, that involves you both. It's a miracle that the nature of your relationship didn't get out to the press, and had it, things probably wouldn't have gone as well as they did." She paused, allowing the information to sink in.

Matt and Emily simply watched, allowing her to speak.

"So they feel it would be best for the Bureau if either your relationship or partnership ended. Frankly, I agree. You came so close to losing everything, and I don't want to risk this happening again. If you aren't involved or aren't partners, you'll be protected from the accusations that flew the last few weeks."

Their expressions had become somewhat alarmed during her speech, but were now more pensive than anything else.

"So you're saying either we break-up or you reassign us?" Matt asked, giving Emily's hand a little squeeze as he spoke.

"Yes. As much as I'd like you together in a team, and as much as the higher-ups would like to pretend this relationship never happen, this isn't my decision and it isn't theirs. I need to know what you want to do as soon as you figure it out." She felt bad dropping this on them, but it was really best this way. This had been too close.

Matt and Emily didn't say anything, just looked at each other, having a conversation with their eyes alone. Emily broke contact first, turning to Cheryl.

"We'll let you know."

"Great, and I'm sorry to put a damper on things," she told them apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," Emily smiled, assuring her that their were no hard feelings.

"Alright then, I'm off back to LA. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," the couple chorused, as she walked out the door.

"So, that wasn't entirely unexpected I suppose," Emily offered with a shrug.

"No, it wasn't…" Matt trailed off, lost in thought.

"So you mentioned you wanted to talk to me about something before Cheryl came in?" Emily was happy to dodge the topic, the two side of her terribly conflicted.

"Yeah, actually it's kind of related to what she just told us." His nervous tone was back, and she could feel his hands become slick with perspiration in her own.

"Oh yeah? Then maybe her timing wasn't so bad."

"Maybe not. I wanted, I want to-" he began, only to be cut off by three more visitors at his door.

"Hello, we aren't interrupting something are we?" Grace, Ben, and John Lehman were all gathered just outside the door, looking more nervous than Matt.

"Hi Mom, Dad, John. Of course you aren't, come in."

Matt looked at Emily alarmed, he was not ready to meet her parents, especially not in a hospital room.

She squeezed his hand. "Matt these are my parents, Ben and Grace, and my brother John. Everybody, this is Matt Flannery, my partner and boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you Matt." Grace Lehman smiled, approaching the bed and grasping his hand.

"You two ma'am. I wish it was under different circumstances."

"Matt, good to see you back with us." Ben took his hand in a firm shake.

"It's good to be back, sir." Matt nodded, swallowing his nerves.

"Matt." John didn't offer much more than a shake. He still wasn't happy with who his baby sister was dating, but seem to decide to just suck it up.

"Good to meet you."

The room became very quiet as the Lehman's sized up Emily's choice of boyfriend, and Matt tried to get a read on the people he'd be playing nice with.

"So good news," Emily broke the silence, "I'm being discharged, and we're having Matt transferred to LA. We're coming home."

"That's wonderful, when will you be back?" Her mother beamed.

"Hopefully sometime tomorrow. We need to arrange a hospital for Matt to be transferred to."

"Don't do LA General, I don't trust those government funded jobs. Doctors are overworked, supplies is short, and all the loonies and homeless go to them."

"We'll remember that dad." She resisted rolling her eyes at his assessment.

"So, has the Bureau cleared you yet?" John asked, still studying Matt.

"Yes, they formally cleared us yesterday. When we're cleared medically we get to go back in the field."

"That's good. Will you still be working together?" Grace tried to sound happy for her daughter, but it was a struggle for her to pretend she didn't want her to quit her job.

Matt and Emily looked at each other, both wanting to shake their heads, but neither sure what the other was thinking enough to actually provide that answer. They looked back at their visitors, and Matt answered, "we're not sure yet."

"Oh…" She could sense this was a topic they hadn't really discussed between each other yet, and decided to move on. "So, your sister finally set a date. May 17th, and she says she wants to have an outdoor wedding, in a garden or park."

"She told me, I told her we'd go dress shopping next week." It figures Abby would give herself only three months to plan her wedding. It would force them to keep it simple.

"Of course I told her that we'd need more time to plan, but you know Abby…" For the next hour they discussed the impending wedding, until the three men in the room started getting bored. Emily was losing her steam too, so they said goodbyes, and once again Matt and Emily were once again left by themselves.

"I'm afraid if I try to talk about this again we'll have more visitors." Matt ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, try to get it out fast then." Emily looked at him helplessly.

"Alright, like I was saying before we…uh, ended up here, I was, uh, thinking…" he struggled nervously, while Emily tried to keep an amused smile from her face.

"We should move in together," he suddenly blurted out.

She started, not expecting what he just said.

"We spend just about every night together, and paying two rents just seems ridiculous. So, I was thinking, I have some things I can get rid of, and we could move your stuff in, you know for monetary purposes…" His rambling justifications trailed off as he waited nervously for her to say something.

She grinned, "Yes, I'd like that." She paused, putting on a fake-serious tone, "for monetary purposes of course."

"Well, that's a given," Matt agreed, grinning back at her, mocking his own nervous ramblings.

She leaned in and kissed him, deeply and slowly, each relishing in the feel of the other. Emily suddenly broke the kiss, and pulled herself away from Matt.

"Wait, wait, wait," She said, shaking her head. "No way am I moving into your apartment."

Matt stared at her in complete confusion, too stunned by her sudden change to protest immediately.

"Watching you scrape one mouse off the floor was more than enough. I will not live with mice," she insisted, openly cringing at the thought.

"Okay…" Matt answered slowly, not sure where this would be going now.

"Don't look so worried. We can look for an apartment together. One without mice." Matt looked considerably relieved at this, and pulled her two him for another kiss. After being attached long enough to need a break to breathe, they settled into an embrace. Emily was careful not to lean on him, afraid the pressure on his wounds be painful.

* * *

The next afternoon the ambulance they were riding in finally pulled into the loading zone at Saint Christopher's Hospital in downtown LA. They had hit traffic in the late morning, and had a arrived later than expected, meaning Cheryl, Frank, Duff, and Lia would probably all be waiting. Matt was to be staying in room 514, in a unit one step below intensive care. His doctor at Woodbridge and the new doctor here, Andrew Sheridan had spoken the previous day, and set up Matt's transfer.

They were home. It seemed amazing that they had left Los Angeles over three weeks ago to handle a hostage negotiation. Time had seemed to pass at the speed of sound while Matt was unconscious and Emily was in her personal hell. At the same time it felt impossible that everything they went through happened in a short three-week span. Perhaps this was why both were nervous as the medics jumped from the ambulance cab, and opened the back doors, swinging them out widely.

Emily was biting her lip as the sunlight hit them, and she hopped out allowing the medics to retrieve Matt. She stared around the small courtyard that created the hospital's loading zone, taking in the familiar sounds of horns honking in the dense LA traffic, the heavy, humid air of the city, and the distinctive smell of Los Angeles. Her hands twitched nervously at her sides; she needed to do something with them, but had nothing. She stood back as they lowered Matt, and began wheeling him toward the doors.

For his part, Matt couldn't really see much, but could hear, smell, and feel everything Emily did, and was just as anxious about returning. He had missed so much being unconscious, had they both missed a lot of LA the past few weeks? How much had happened in the CNU while they were gone? How long would it be before he saw his apartment, or drove the FBI issue SUV he gotten after his Mustang was blown up? Why did it feel so strange being back?

"Hello, you must be Matt and Emily," a friendly face greeted them. "I'm Dr. Sheridan. Welcome to St. Christopher's."

"Hi, thanks," Matt shook his hand, as they wheeled him in. Emily nodded, and did the same.

"We'll get you up to your new room, and I'll give you a quick exam. Then there's some people who've been waiting for you to arrive."

"We figured they beat us here." Matt answered as he was wheeled into an elevator, Emily never budging from his side.

"They haven't been waiting too long, but I think they were starting to get a little worried." He smiled, there was something amusing in watching three tough FBI agents get antsy over a little traffic.

"I'll go meet them." Emily finally released his hand, as she stepped off the elevator, following the signs for the family room. She continued down the long hallway, turning twice with the signs, until she finally found a room with four people, looking slightly strained.

"Hi," she greeted, startling them. Cheryl had been staring out a window, Frank was staring into space blankly, and Lia and Duff were talking quietly.

"Hey!" Lia ran over and embraced her, happy to have her friend home.

"How was the trip?" Frank asked.

"Slow. We hit a lot of traffic, and Matt was passed out for half of it."

"The doctors getting him settled?" Cheryl had moved away from her window, and took her turn hugging Emily.

"Yeah, Dr. Sheridan is going to exam him afterward."

"Nothing happened on the trip, right?" Lia demanded nervously.

"No, not at all. I think it's just precautionary with a new patient." Everyone nodded, the tension evaporating from their bodies.

"Oh right," Lia suddenly remembered something. "we have all of your mail, except the junk, that we just threw out. And your fridge has been restocked."

"Wow, thank you." Emily was a little taken aback by the gesture.

"Don't thank us yet. We didn't find the dead mice until one of his neighbors called the cops about the smell." Duff cringed.

"Oh no, how many was there?"

"Four of the little guys were rotting all over Matt's kitchen linoleum." Recognizing the owner's name, the cops called the FBI, who patched them through to Cheryl, who sent Duff and Frank to investigate, and they got to scrape the creatures off the floor.

"Oh, that's disgusting." Emily looked ill at the memories of watching Matt clean up their first decomposing mouse.

"Don't worry, the apartment doesn't really smell anymore." Frank promised.

"Thanks," Emily was still cringing at the thought, before she suddenly had a thought. "Oh, did you find Jaws?"

All four people looked confused. Lia decided to be the brave one and ask, "who's Jaws?"

"Matt's fish, he's a beta." Matt had won the creature at a bar they went to, by having the best aim after five shots of tequila. Perhaps not the smartest game.

"Matt has a fish?" Cheryl asked, bewildered.

"Not anymore," Frank pointed out. Duff started struggling not to laugh at the joke, and got Frank going with his own struggle. Lia and Cheryl were struggling not to at least crack a smile at the situation.

"Oh god," Emily gave a disgusted cry, "that's just another thing decomposing in his apartment!"

That did it; all four burst out laughing, the circumstances to ludicrous for anything but laugher. Emily soon joined them, shaking her head.

"Uh, excuse me?" A nurse interrupted, looking at them curiously. She didn't tend to see who lot of people laugh in her line of work, now she had a room full.

"Oh, sorry," Cheryl sobered up first.

"Mr. Flannery is settled." The words had barely left her mouth, when they began to shuffle out the door.

"Hey man, we've got some news on your apartment," Frank greeted with his distinctively loud voice.

"What about it?" Matt looked at him skeptically, wondering what they'd done to his apartment.

Emily looked at him sympathetically, "Jaws is dead."

Matt looked puzzled for a minute, "the fish from the bar?"

"Yes, Matt. He starved to death." Emily spoke with exasperation at the man that barely remember his fish.

"Oh, I figured he would one day," he shrugged. Duff and Frank started cracking up again. Emily rolled her eyes, Cheryl shook her head back and forth, and Lia had an expression of pity on her face at the sad life and death of the little fish.

"Oh, and you owe us Flannery," Frank demanded.

"Yeah, we had to scrape four dead mice off the floor." Duff agreed, making a face.

Matt offered an equally grossed out face.

Emily nodded her head at him, "Yeah, and you want me to move in there?"

The room went silent at her comment, as four heads flew in their direction, eyebrows raised or mouths open.

"What?" Matt asked, as if that was no big deal. "We're moving in together."

Shocked expressions gradually turned to smiles, and Cheryl commented. "Well, I guess that gives me my answer. You'll get new partners when you ready to go into the field."

Matt and Emily nodded, secure in their decision, though they would miss working with each other terribly.

Psychiatrists always say not to make big decision after you've experienced a tragedy, or been through a struggled much like the two negotiators had. But, Matt had been ready to take that step when Emily had referred to his floor as hers. It had gotten him thinking in a direction that made him a little nervous, but he realized that he wanted that floor to be hers also. Emily wasn't quite on that page by then, but after Donovan's little speech on family, she'd begun to think. She determined, as she watched Matt sleep for days, that even if she wasn't ready to marry him or have his child, she was ready to think about both without blushing. When he'd asked her to move in, she didn't really need to think about it.

After some squealing from Lia, and discussion between the group, they retired the topic, and pulled out several others before the nurses came to kick everyone out. Emily wasn't about to go without a fight, and managed to negotiate thirty extra minutes out of the nurse. Settled back down beside Matt, who had watched her negotiation with amusement, and drifted off into space.

"Hey, you okay?" He jostled her hand to get her attention.

"Yeah, fine, it's just…it feels weird to be back, doesn't it?" She wore a troubled expression with her confession.

"A little, yeah. Like we left a lot back in Woodbridge."

"Yeah, it feels like it was a completely different world there."

"Otherwise known as Hell."

"It's more than that. It feels like…we left them there."

He looked puzzled, "who did we leave?"

"Those people, the troopers, the hostages, the HTs. We survived, we left, we get to move on, but they don't get to. Either they're dead, or they live in Woodbridge or Sunset Grove, and will see those reminders of what happened everyday. They'll still be there, but we won't."

"And they'll have a hard time, but they'll move on. Time passes there too, Em." Matt tried to comfort her, knowing that she still felt guilty, much more than he did. He hadn't been conscious for any of the accusations, and by the time he woke up, it seemed to have all blown over to an extent. She was slammed with everything.

"But it won't for us. The only thing that place will ever mean to us is death and tragedy. It's never going to be anything except that for us. It won't change for us." She was clearly struggling to explain what she was feeling.

"Probably, but that doesn't mean those people won't heal. It doesn't mean that they won't be able to look back in ten years, and hurt less." He ran his fingers along her arm, trying to comfort her.

"I know, I know. I just feels like we ran away."

He thought a minute, as she watched him, her eyes pleading for some kind of reassurance. He finally found one.

"We didn't run away, Em. We came home." Her eyes went from a plea to sad resignation. He wiped away a tear that started to work it's way down her cheek. It wasn't the last tear she'd shed over the tragedy they had just lived through, but the first as they began to accept what happened and move on from it.

* * *

_Sorry this took so long to finish, I've been working like crazy. A very extra special thank you to everyone who stuck with it during the very random update schedule, and reviewed regularly. Thank you also to those who read and reviewed sporadically, and those who will in the future._ _Now that it's over, I'd really appreciate reviews on the story as a whole (long as it was)._


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